Wild At Heart
by SolanaFae
Summary: Fenris is a man that has fought for - and won - his freedom from Danarius long ago. Sylvestrie is a woman desperate for freedom of her own. When the lives of two ex slaves collide, nobody is prepared for the outcome...some battles are lost before they've begun. [[Fenris X OC Sylvestrie]]
1. Chapter 1

**BioWare own the characters and settings (except Sylvestrie, she's all mine!) I am just playing with them all for a while.**

**For those of you that recognize the story, it was uploaded to my old account. I wasn't sure if I would upload it again but considering I'm re-writing "Ashes of War", I thought I'd leave you all with something to read, lol**  
**Oh, by the way, Sylvestrie had previously been called Tala; however I prefer the new name. It's adapted from Latin, meaning "woody, sylvan or wild".**

**.o.o.o.**

**ONE.**

She runs along the coastline as fast as her legs will carry her; breath coming in short gasps and she doesn't dare stop for a second to turn her head to see behind her. She can still hear the men behind her, shouting obscenities and threats and it spurs her on.

She is running, quite literally, for her life.

The thought occurred to her with some degree of horror – the Imperial Guard had been following her for days and she always managed to slip out of their grasp before they realized it. This time, she had not been that lucky.  
Someone had ratted her out and they had found her hiding in the cellar of a nobles mansion. She had run through the city, throwing down her smoke bottles and escaping the Guard in the chaos it created.  
Unfortunately it had only bought her a few precious seconds and now she was being chased again.

Her thought process distracted her momentarily and in that split second she tripped over a root and landed with a thump on the hard ground. Panting for breath, she tried to struggle to her feet and found her left foot twisted at an impossible angle under the root that she had tripped over. She gritted her teeth and started pulling her ankle free; aware that the Guard were gaining on her – she could see them approaching over the rise and her foot was still stuck fast.  
She gave one last pull and tried to ignore the pain that shot from her ankle to the rest of her leg and bit back an agonized shout.  
She looked up and found herself near surrounded by the guardsmen that had chased her for so long – now they finally had their prize in sight and from the determination on their faces she knew that she was done for.

"Please. Please, just let me go!"

The Captain barked a laugh, which was echoed by the rest of his men; "I do not think so, little one. We were hired to bring you back and it no longer matters what state you are taken home in."

She swallowed, knowing that she couldn't reach her daggers and even if she could; with her ankle in such pain she stood no chance of being able to fight the guardsmen.  
For the first time in her life, she allowed herself to let the threatening tears spill out over her cheeks.

"Well how precious. She cries in the face of her death."

They advanced on her and she made another desperate attempt at wriggling free of the root. When that failed, she reached into the sheath strapped around her right thigh for the small dagger she kept there.  
Before she had the chance to tug it free the guardsmen had drawn their swords, their points at her throat glinting wickedly in the sunlight. Fear and panic coursed through her and she closed her eyes, anticipating the pain of her impending death.

Shouts filled the air and she opened her eyes in time to see a blur of black and electric blue go past. The guardsmen fell to the ground, leaving their Captain standing, staring in shock at the crumpled bodies that lay at his feet.

"Maker, save me!" He stuttered his words as he fell to the ground, joining his fallen comrades.

"I owe you my life, I think." She stared in a mixture of shock and awe at the man who had cut through the guards as though they were nothing more than paper.  
The figure, clad in black looked down at her; the electric blue fading. She pushed her short black hair away from her face and smiled gratefully.

"You are most welcome. Can you stand?"  
"I'm not sure. If you could help move this root I can try."

Strong hands pulled the root out of the ground and she tried pushing herself up off of the ground. Pain coursed through her and she sank down again.

"I don't know if it is broken or just badly injured."

He leaned forward and she found herself looking into a pair of the most incredible green eyes she had ever seen. He stood, holding his hand out to her and she took it; allowing him to pull her up and allowing him to take some of her weight so that she could walk.

"I owe you a debt of gratitude. If you had not come along when you did..." She trailed off and looked up at him.  
He inclined his head slightly. "You are welcome. I could not let you die at their hands without reason."  
"How do you know there wasn't reason?"  
"Because you do not look like someone that would give four guardsmen reason to kill you in cold blood."  
"You don't know that. I could be a jewel thief or a vicious criminal."  
He arched an eyebrow. "Are you?"  
She grinned. "No. Although were I not in such pain, I may have had a little fun making you think otherwise."

She was rewarded with a soft chuckle and a half smile which faded as quickly as it appeared.

"I have just realized I did not ask your name," Sylvestrie said after a while.  
"My name is Fenris."  
"Well met, then Fenris. I am Sylvestrie."  
"Well met indeed," he replied, the half smile re-appearing briefly.  
"I appreciate your kindness. It is not something I am used to."

Fenris tilted his head in acknowledgement, "do you think you would be able to walk to Kirkwall from here if I help?"  
"I can certainly try," she smiled gratefully; "the City of Chains is a fair distance - what brought you all the way out here?"  
"The need for some fresh air and thinking space," he replied, "Kirkwall is…fine…but sometimes…"  
"You need to be somewhere that's not surrounded by walls and chains?"  
Fenris chuckled at that, "exactly so. What brought you to the Wounded Coast?"  
"I don't think you have time enough to hear my story," Sylvestrie shook her head with a smile, "but I will tell you that I'm on the run from someone who is very eager to get his hands on me again."  
Fenris' mouth tightened into a thin line, "I can only guess that this person is someone of great power and influence?"  
"You could say that," she said, carefully. Sighing, she glanced away for a moment before looking up at Fenris; her eyes shimmering faintly with tears; "he is…was…my master. I'm an escaped slave. There is a considerable bounty on my head."

Sylvestrie steeled herself for the inevitable change of heart that she knew would come from her rescuer, as it had done from others when they realized that the bounty was worth more than her life. He stayed silent for a minute that seemed to stretch on and on. Sylvestrie looked around her to find an escape route just in case it was needed.

Finally, Fenris broke the silence, "then it would seem you and I have something in common."  
Sylvestrie's eyes widened in shock, "you…you were a slave?"  
"I was. I am free now, though. Well. As free as one with my past can be."  
"How did you gain your freedom?" Sylvestrie asked.  
"I killed him." Fenris' answer was short and to the point.  
Sylvestrie arched an eyebrow and shot Fenris a look of approval, "good. He deserved it."

Fenris nodded; his lips quirked up at the corners and he gestured to the narrow path ahead, "When we get to Kirkwall I will take you to a healer to see to your ankle, if it is still troubling you?"

Sylvestrie moved away from him and tested her weight on her ankle; letting out a quiet oath when pain shot through her and the ankle gave out under her. Fenris caught her by the elbow and took her weight again.

"I will take that as a yes," Fenris murmured, noticing a pained look on Sylvestrie's face as she nodded.

Slowly, the pair made their way to Kirkwall, Fenris occasionally pointing something out – rare crafting herbs; flowers and strange brightly colored dragonflies – to take Sylvestrie's mind off of the pain.

**.o.o.o.**

Anders was exhausted.  
He had been healing since early dawn and his clinic had been full the entire day. It was almost as though an epidemic was sweeping Darktown and Anders was hoping that today was just an anomaly.  
He wanted nothing more than to go home to his wife and sleep for the next few days.

"Anders," a familiar deep voice behind him commanded his attention.  
"Andraste's knicker weasels!" Anders muttered, turning to face Fenris, "what?"  
"We need your help," Fenris answered, shortly.  
"We?" Anders asked, "we who?"

A woman appeared from behind Fenris, favoring her right foot. Anders raised his eyebrows in question.

"This is Sylvestrie. I found her on the Wounded Coast being attacked by four Imperial Guards. They shall not be doing that again," his lips twitched in a satisfied smirk, "I am not sure how badly injured her ankle is though, so I brought her to you."  
"Alright. Well. Sit down, Sylvestrie and I'll have a look at it."  
Anders gestured to a cot and Sylvestrie perched on the edge of it; looking around the dark clinic and the few patients that were recuperating on other cots. A wooden writing desk stood in one corner, a shabby chair tucked under it and a door half-open behind it.  
Anders cupped Sylvestrie's ankle in one hand, the other moving over it enveloping it in a pale blue glow. Sylvestrie winced, air hissing between her teeth as the healing magic located the source of her pain.

"Sorry," Anders muttered, "it's a small fracture but I'm nearly done now."

Sylvestrie gripped the edge of the cot, closing her eyes as a wave of nausea rolled through her stomach and Fenris reached a hand out, laying it next to one of hers.

Anders sat back on his heels and looked up at Sylvestrie before getting up and disappearing through the door behind the desk.  
He returned, handing Sylvestrie a cracked glass with water in it.

"Thank you," she took a few sips and smiled gratefully, "Anders, right?"  
"At your service," he gave her a tired smile and clicked his heels together, saluting in a fair imitation of a guard.

Sylvestrie chuckled and gingerly put her weight onto her ankle, pleasantly surprised at being able to walk with no pain. Fenris handed Anders some coin, which he tried to give back – unsuccessfully.

"Where's Hawke?" Fenris asked.  
Anders looked up from shuffling some papers on his desk blinking owlishly, "oh…she went to the Hanged Man, I think."  
"Good," Fenris turned to Sylvestrie, "would you like to come to the Hanged Man?"  
"I…don't know. What is it?"  
"A tavern," Fenris chuckled, "my…friends…have made it something of a second home. Or actual home for two of them."  
"Oh! Well, yes, then I'd like that."

Fenris nodded to Anders who returned it saying that he would be along later as Fenris and Sylvestrie left his clinic and wound their way through the dismal, dirt packed undercity that the locals called Darktown.

**.o.o.o.**

They stopped in front of a tavern with a large figurine of a man hanging by his feet outside it and Fenris pushed the tavern door open. He gestured for Sylvestrie to go in first and she did looking around in something approaching awe.  
The floors were dusty and in some places Sylvestrie was fairly certain she could see faded bloodstains; but the atmosphere was what captured her – the music, the laughter and merriment; everyone talking over each other – she felt overwhelmed but happily so.

Fenris caught her eye as she looked around and smiled inwardly at her wide-eyed amazement. He was not yet sure what to make of this girl – as an escaped slave, he imagined her to be scarred in much the same ways as he – she was clearly not naive but she had an innocence about her that made him feel at once fiercely protective of her; which both startled and worried him.

Fenris led Sylvestrie through the tables and patrons, up a small set of stairs and into a small, homely suite.  
A large table dominated the main room; heavy wood with a few mismatched chairs occupied by six people that all turned and watched the pair walk in.  
As they approached the table, a dusky-skinned woman with sultry eyes and a wicked smile gave Sylvestrie an appraising look.

"Well well...hello sweet thing," she purred, "what do I call you?"  
"Easy girl," a woman with shoulder length blonde hair laughed, "you'll scare her before she's even sat down."

Fenris sat, moving another chair out with his foot and indicating to Sylvestrie to sit next to him; which after a few seconds she did, offering him a quick nervous smile in thanks.

"So," a dwarven man said, leaning forward, "who's the new girl?"  
"This is Sylvestrie. I rescued her from a few Imperial Guards on the Wounded Coast. Sylvestrie, this is...well...my family, I suppose would be the best way of putting it."

Fenris introduced the male dwarf as Varric, the red head in guards armor and the man next to her in much the same garb as Aveline and her husband Donnic; a slender Elven girl as Merrill and the dark haired woman as Isabela. The blonde woman introduced herself as Hawke, mentioning that Sylvestrie had already met her husband Anders.  
Sylvestrie smiled at them all, nervous and unsure of what to say or how to act.

"So what did you do to warrant a chase from Imperial Guards?" Aveline asked.  
"I…I escaped my master," Sylvestrie looked down at the table, suddenly feeling very much under scrutiny.

Before anyone had a chance to react, Anders walked in carrying tankards of ale. He set them down, kissed the top of Hawkes head and collapsed into a chair with a groan.

"Good to see you again Sylvestrie," he said after a moment, "I wasn't sure if you actually drank, sorry if you don't."  
"Mmm, don't be sorry – I'll take it," Isabela grinned, "waste not want not."  
"Isabela, you are unbelievable," Aveline groaned, "poor girl hasn't even had chance to answer before you commandeer her ale."  
"It's alright, honestly. I've never actually had a drink before so it is yours Isabela."

Isabela beamed and snatched the tankard triumphantly. "I think I'm going to like you, kitten."  
Fenris made a noise in his throat somewhere between a growl and a snort.

"You like anything with a pulse," he muttered, causing Aveline to laugh loudly while Isabela pouted.

Varric leaned back in his chair and studied Sylvestrie for a moment, "so, what's your story?"

"What do you mean?"  
"Well, everyone has a story and I like hearing them..."  
"And telling them," Merrill interjected with a broad smile, "Varric is a very good storyteller."  
"Well, thank you Daisy," the dwarf smiled warmly at Merrill and then turned back to Sylvestrie, "so, tell us all about you."

Sylvestrie looked around nervously, catching Fenris' eye. He nodded with a small smile of encouragement.  
She took a deep breath and began.

**.o.o.o.**


	2. Chapter 2

**BioWare own the characters and settings (except Sylvestrie, she's all mine!) I am just playing with them all for a while.**

***thank you to everyone that has read this and added it to their favorites - you're all awesome!***

**.o.o.o.**

**TWO.**

_"I wish that I could start my tale with anecdotes of a happy childhood spent with a loving family. Sadly, I do not recall my early life; save for flashes in dreams that I can't be certain are real._  
_"All I know is the sparse detail that my master deigned to give me – he would use this information as leverage to bend me further to his will._  
_"My first true memory is more like a nightmare borne of searing pain and burning within my skin that left me branded like a prize bull._  
_"My master was a cruel man, an influential magister of the Tevinter Imperium who gained enjoyment and pleasure through intimidation and fear. He was part of a small, but powerful coven of magisters that participated in blood magic rituals to fuel their power. _  
_"One evening, not long after I turned nineteen, my master held a very opulent ball. He did this frequently – he loved to show his wealth and power to everyone as much as he could and this night was no exception._  
_"One of his guests had taken something of a liking to me and my master had decided to allow him to… use me for the evening. Naturally, I had no say in the matter._  
_"This man took me into the cellar of the estate and proceeded to use me for whatever twisted desires he had at the time. There was one point where I was nearing unconsciousness, I was numb, cold and badly hurt…and he brought my master into the room and had him perform some spell or ritual using my blood. I could feel my blood burning inside me, I could hear it rushing in my ears; it was all I could smell or taste. I truly thought that I was going to die that night._  
_"I do not remember much of what happened next. I remember being so aware of my heart beating, slow and hard like a drum. Between each beat all I saw were flashes of the most atrocious violence – the faint screams of agony and death, the smell of blood in the air and my breathing fast and shallow. I had no idea what I was seeing, whether it was in my mind or if it was being done to me or someone else. I was scared, I felt like I was watching it unfold from outside of my body; but I was only allowed to see tiny pieces and none of it made sense. "After a while, I think I finally lost my battle with unconsciousness. Something loud, a banging noise sounded in my head and I awoke to see the cellar door slamming shut being my master. The air was thick and heavy, carrying the coppery smell of blood, coupled with fear. _  
_"I was so aware of my own breathing that it took me a while to realize I was not alone in the cellar. The man that had…bought me…for the night was lying on the floor; his head at an impossible angle and his eyes wide…sightless; his mouth contorted in a grotesque mask of fear and pain._  
_"It was then that I looked down. I was covered in blood and I did not know who it belonged to._  
_"Not long after this happened, I was sold to another magister – a cold, callous man called Gideon. He wasn't from Tevinter but he had power over a lot of the magisters there – he was…respected and feared._  
_"He dealt in fear and violence and nothing else. Every person in the mansion, whether in his employ or a guest was terrified of him – he not only had a lot of power but he had wealth too and he used his wealth to control the Imperial Guard of the city. _  
_"I was part slave, part courtesan and when I reached twenty-one I was forced to participate in his blood magic rituals. I resisted; but only once. I didn't dare try to go against him again – he was too powerful and too strong for me to fight physically and I did not have the inner power to fight him any other way._  
_"It seemed that he had control over most of the city and there was no escaping him._  
_"Gideon would keep me locked in a small room in one of the turrets of his estate; trotting me out to serve at his whim or when he wanted to impress someone. I felt that I was truly trapped without any way out and I resigned myself to my life – such as it was._  
_"But one day, he was careless. He had left in a hurry to visit one of his many lovers in the township his estate loomed over and had left my door unlocked in his haste. _  
_"I stole out of my room and headed for his quarters, which I knew would be open. He never locked his own rooms; he had the arrogance to believe that his slaves and servants feared him enough to stay away unless they were called. For the most part, he was right. But not that day._  
_"In his bed chamber I found a large, locked wooden chest and before I knew it, I had picked the lock and opened it. I do not know where my knowledge of lock picking came from; it was pure instinct. I was not prepared for what was inside, however._  
_"Inside the chest were personal items that I assumed belonged to his other slaves and a thick envelope that had my name written in neat script on it. I opened it and read the letter inside. It was from my previous master, telling Gideon that I was too strong willed and defiant; perhaps Gideon would be able to tame me; make me more compliant and docile._  
_"He talked of me like I was some pet, a rabid beast that needed sedating. He mentioned the ritual, some branding that he had successfully used on me in the past – that had forever marked me as a slave and that had erased everything about me._  
_"The next part chilled me to the core._  
_"He described a mark I carried, one that was as much a part of my skin as the brands he had place on me. A small birthmark in the shape of a paw-print underneath my left breast that he was certain gave clues as to 'what I really was'. He said that he had tried – unsuccessfully – to stop my 'transformation' and that locking me away was the only way he knew of dealing with my 'changes'. _  
_"He said that what now flowed through my veins was meant to counteract whatever curse was in my blood but it had failed and perhaps Gideon could make it work. If not, then he could use the enclosed items to 'finish the job'._  
_"Three items slipped out of the envelope – a small solid silver dagger and a vial of poison labeled Aconitum, which I put back into the envelope._  
_"The other item in the envelope was a ring – a slender silver band with runes carved into it that I instinctively knew was mine. It slid neatly onto my middle finger and then wouldn't budge. I stuffed the letter back into the envelope and hid it under my tunic; locking the chest and making my way back to my own room. _  
_"My head was whirling with all of this information and as night fell, I drifted into an uneasy sleep._  
_"Gideon woke me up to attend to him and his consort for the evening; a tall thin woman he called Maya and I knew immediately she was not like the simpering wenches he usually brought back with him – there was something in her eyes that seemed almost unnatural._  
_"She looked at me as I poured her wine and it felt like a shock had gone through me; an unspoken message went between the two of us and I spilled wine onto the carpets. Gideon instantly threw me to the floor, ready to strike me for my stupidity and clumsiness; but she stopped him and said she would deal with me and handing him his wine she ushered me out and up to my room. "Once there, she told me that she had seen me before in the town (on the very rare occasion that Gideon allowed me outside, it was only to accompany him on errands) and that she knew I was "different", that I was special, that I would be feared and hunted because of what I am; that Gideon would eventually find out exactly what curse ran through my blood and abuse it for his own gain. She told me that I had to leave, run away and never look back._  
_"I had no chance to ask what she meant, nor ask her about the meaning of the letter I had found; or the items with it. She told me she had administered a drug to Gideons drink that would render him unconscious but only for a short time and I had to make my escape then and there._  
_""I had no personal belongings, just the clothes I wore so Maya took me out of the mansion through the servants' entrance; taking me from that awful place to the docks of the township. "She had already secured my passage on a merchants' vessel and it was made clear by the Captain that it was most assuredly not a free ride. I think that I would have accepted most any terms at that instant – I was just relieved and grateful for Maya's help. I stepped onto the boat and heard the shouts of the Imperial Guard through the streets – my master had awoken from his drugged slumber too soon and had noticed me missing immediately!_  
_"Maya told the Captain of the ship to set sail quickly and he followed her order. I saw the diminishing figures of the Imperial Guard on the docks as we sailed away, but Maya was nowhere to be seen. I do not know if she escaped or fell to their blades._  
_"I lived and worked on that boat as a serving girl. It was a strangely enjoyable time and one I remember fondly. The Captains men were kind and funny, one or two would invite me to play Diamondback although I always declined._  
_"After what felt like years of sailing, the ship was anchored in the docks of Hercinia and the realization hit me that I was truly on my own now. _  
_"I had no knowledge of the world outside of my masters' mansion and I was terrified! For the first few days I hid in one of the abandoned houses in the slums area too scared to leave in case someone saw me and turned me over to the Hercinia city guards._  
_"When I finally ventured out into the city it became apparent that nobody noticed me at all and I found this sudden anonymity rewarding and relieving._  
_"It was then that I realized I only had the small amount of coin that the Captain had given me as payment for working on his merchant vessel and once I bought myself some food to last me a few days, I was completely out of resource._  
_"I resorted to stealing where I could. I found that I had a natural aptitude for blending into shadows and I was quick on my feet so stealing posed no problem for me at all until one day when I was not quick enough. I got caught by the owner of a small fruit cart and she threatened to drag me in front of the guards. I begged her to see reason and I will never know why; but she agreed to spare me._  
_"Her name was Alis and she set me to work on her cart, selling fruits and sometimes nuts and other delicacies. She gave me a room in her house and when I wasn't helping her with her cart, I put myself to work cleaning and cooking – I still carried a lot of the slave mentality and could not break that bond easily._  
_"One afternoon when I had finished preparing a meal for Alis to come home to, I accidentally tripped over the corner of the rug in her kitchen. It tangled around my feet and I fell, taking the rug with me and hitting my head on the floor. As I stood to place the rug back where it belonged I noticed that it covered a trap door and I am ashamed to admit that curiosity got the better of me._  
_"I opened the hatch and went down into Alis' cellar. I was not prepared for the sight that greeted me at all._  
_"Racks of swords and long bows lined the walls and before I knew what I was doing, I took a pair of short blades and started to use them. Well...I tried to use them. I lost my balance more times than I could count and nearly impaled myself at least twice. But I was hooked – using the blades felt natural, as though I was meant to use them._  
_"I had lost track of the time however and as I put the blades back, Alis stood at the foot of the ladder leading into the kitchen staring at me._  
_"I thought I was done for. I had stolen from her cart in the past and now this. I started to drop to my knees to apologize and beg for her mercy when she laughed. She threw her head back and laughed until tears formed in her eyes and she could not draw breath. _  
_"Alis told me that before she started selling fruits she had been a rogue and that if I wanted to learn her other 'trade', she would teach me to use the twin blades and some basic fighting skills._  
_"It was hard, I won't deny that, but it gave me a sense of purpose. Alis and I trained until the small hours of the morning most days and I felt so at home, almost at peace with myself and my blighted past._  
_"This, of course, did not last long. Someone in the town had seen me working with Alis on her cart and had sent word to the Imperial Guards and my master. I woke one morning to find Alis dead, pinned to the door of my room by a broad sword with a bounty notice hanging from it._  
_"I was enraged, I was grief stricken and I was scared. I could not avenge Alis and I knew that my master would not have sent just one or two men – he would send an entire army of guardsmen to bring back his most prized possession._  
_"So I grabbed a small pack, the twin blades I had been using to train with and some food and then waited for nightfall to make my escape._  
_"I reached Ostwick in a few days and sold a few of the items I had found along the way so I had some coin to buy food and provisions with and as I walked through the market, I was approached by a passing traveler who was selling potions and poisons. _  
_"He reached into his bag and handed me to small bottles, calling it Miasma and telling me that if I needed to buy time to run to throw a bottle to the ground and escape in the smoke and chaos it brings._  
_"He refused to take payment and to this day I do not know why he offered me this aid – could he sense my dire situation, or was he just a stranger looking to help others? I will never find the answer to that, or the man himself to thank him._  
_"I had nowhere to stay in Ostwick and this worried me – I could not sleep in darkened corners of the streets for fear of being caught, so I did what I thought to be the best thing. _  
_"Under cover of darkness, I slipped into the richer area of the town and picked the lock of the first cellar door I spotted. For days I hid in the cellar of an unknown nobleman, living off of the limited provisions I had managed to buy._  
_"My shelter did not last long. Someone had seen me sneak into the cellar and had reported me to the Ostwick guardsmen, who had already been approached by the Imperial Guards that had descended upon the township two days previous and again I found myself running._  
_"I set foot in the Free Marches two days ago and I have been making a slow, steady progress through the Wounded Coast since then._  
_"My master is paying a very handsome reward for anyone who brings me back to him. If Fenris had not helped me when he did, I would have been captured and sent back to my master and this all would have been for nothing."_


	3. Chapter 3

**~authors note~**  
**BioWare own the characters and settings (except Sylvestrie, she's all mine!) I am just playing with them all for a while.**  
**.o.o.o.**

**THREE.**

Sylvestrie ended her tale and raised her eyes to look at her audience. Everyone around the table looked shocked and saddened, but it was Fenris' expression that surprised her the most. He looked thunderously angry but his eyes held an understanding sadness. She smiled sadly at him and placed one of her hands over his forearm.

"I owe you my life, Fenris and for that I thank you."

Fenris looked at her and found himself startled by her eyes.  
They were a wide almond shape, almost Elven, the pupils near elliptical; but it was the color that had startled him. They were the color of lilacs, shining with an almost silvery brilliance.  
For a moment, there was silence around the table and Sylvestrie started to regret having given as much of her story as she had. What if they judged her? What if they sent her back or worse – left her stranded somewhere to be found by the next guardsmen that were sure to come? In telling these people her story she had allowed herself to be vulnerable and she cursed herself inwardly for doing so. She pushed a few strands of her short black hair away from her face absently, waiting for someone to say something...anything.  
After what felt like hours, Fenris let out a quiet breath.

"Where are the markings?"  
"They were branded on different points of my body – the top of my head under my hair, the back of my neck, each shoulder, each wrist, lower back; hips and ankles. If I may ask – what were yours created with?"  
"Lyrium," Fenris answered shortly.  
"You were lucky," she replied softly.  
Fenris' markings flared blue briefly and the rest of the group fell silent.  
"Lucky? You think I was lucky to be branded with lyrium?" It was said softly, dangerously.  
"No, I don't think you were lucky to be branded, Fenris," Sylvestrie looked at him, her lilac eyes serious "I think you were lucky that it was only lyrium."  
"I fail to see how this is lucky," he spat.  
"You were lucky because it was not lyrium my master used. He used avenite."

Hawke looked up at the Fenris' sharp intake of breath to see that he had paled; his eyes holding a dark anger.

"What's avenite?" She asked and Sylvestrie looked up at her sadly.  
"Avenite is older than lyrium and stronger. It hasn't been used by anyone for years and anyone found with even the smallest piece is sentenced to death by hanging."  
"What?! Why?" Anders asked; his eyes wide.  
"It was something that was used in the most dangerous of magic of all."

Fenris rose and began pacing, his hands clenching into fists. For a moment everyone watched him, knowing he was outraged; waiting for him to speak.  
When he did, his voice was full of fury, "death magic. It's used in death magic."  
Hawke looked up; wanting to ask the question but not wanting the answer it would receive, "what exactly is death magic?"

Fenris stopped pacing, tension and anger surging through him. He looked at Sylvestrie and gestured for her to continue.

"Death magic is one of the older, arcane forms of magic. It has been outlawed for years now because of what it involves; because of who it involves. My master is one of the only mages in existence that still uses death magic, secretly of course.  
"It involves death in its most violent form – murder. It was said that the energy released from this could give the mage so much power that he would become almost unstoppable.  
"But the worst thing of all is who this type of magic involves..."

Sylvestrie trailed off, blinking back tears. Merrill looked up at her and then at the rest of the group with a sickened look on her face.

"I know...what it is..." Merrill allowed her own tears to fall freely and Sylvestrie shook her head slowly before continuing.  
"The mage will take only children. Anywhere from infancy to the age of fifteen because they believed that the more "unused life" there is in the victim, the more energy is gained from the murder and the more potential there is to be released and poured in the magic."

Hawke paled and Anders took her hand gently, with a stricken look on his face, "you were part of this?" He asked quietly.  
"Not by choice, Anders. My master told me that I had to choose the victims for him because I had a "good eye" for potential. If I refused, he would beat me...or worse. I only chose once, the other times I took my punishment rather than have the death of a child on my hands.  
"I will never forgive myself for aiding him, though. That is something I will carry for the rest of my life."

Merrill wiped her eyes and looked curiously at Sylvestrie, "do your markings give you the same power as Fenris?"

Hawke cringed and Fenris half-sighed and half-growled while Anders just looked bemused at the question. Sylvestrie looked at all of them blankly.

"I don't know what you mean, Merrill, what power?"  
"She is referring to the ability I have to reach into a person's chest and rip their heart out," Fenris muttered quietly from behind Sylvestrie.  
"Oh...Maker that just sounds..._messy_," Sylvestrie twisted in her seat to look up at Fenris who was leaning on the back of her chair.  
Fenris chuckled softly, surprising everyone, "It is not as bad as it sounds."  
"Well, that's...something," Sylvestrie smiled "but to answer your question – no, I cannot do anything like that."  
"Well that's a relief," Isabela laughed, "we can all do without another person with magical fisting abilities."  
"Magical fisting...?" Sylvestrie sputtered out a slightly shocked laugh.  
"It is how she describes my…talent," Fenris muttered.  
"What?" Isabela asked, "It's concise, to the point."

Varric shook his head in amusement, and then turned his attention to Sylvestrie, "so where are you planning on staying? I can ask if there are rooms here, if you would like?"  
"She can stay with me," Fenris said suddenly, to his own surprise as well as everyone else's.  
"Are you sure?" Sylvestrie asked, "You've already done so much to help me, I don't wish to be a burden to you."  
"I am sure. The mansion is more than large enough and you are welcome to come and go as you please."  
"Well...thank you, Fenris. I appreciate the offer."  
Varric picked up the deck of cards he and Isabela had been using and shuffled them, dealing a few out to everyone around the table.

"Not for me, Varric. I have duty later," Aveline smiled and pushed her cards away.  
"As do I," Donnic said, standing up with his wife and nodding to Sylvestrie, "good to meet you, Serah."  
"Good to meet you – both of you," Sylvestrie responded.  
Isabela stood and stretched languidly; catching the attention of most males in the tavern. One in particular walked over to the table and whispered something in her ear.  
"Oh I would eat you for breakfast, sweet thing," Isabela laughed and winked at him, then linked her arm through his and left, wiggling her fingers in a lazy wave to the remainder of the group.

"That girl is incorrigible," Varric shook his head with a half-shocked laugh and Hawke just rolled her eyes.  
"I'll run out of salve at the clinic at the rate she's going lately," Anders quipped.  
"Speaking of which," Hawke said, "we should go and check on your patients before we go home."  
"You're right, my love," Anders stood and offered his hand to Hawke, "welcome to Kirkwall, Sylvestrie."  
Hawke took her husbands' hand and smiled warmly at him, before nodding to the others, "I'm sure I will see you again, Sylvestrie. If you need anything, please come and find me?"  
"I...I will. Thank you, Hawke."  
"Of course," Hawke and Anders left the tavern, heads bent together as they left; talking a mile a minute to each other.

"How long have they been married?" Sylvestrie asked.  
"Hmm...Must be, what – about six years now, Broody?" Varric looked over at Fenris who narrowed his eyes.  
"Don't call me that," he responded and Sylvestrie looked from one to the other.  
"May I ask...? Why Broody?"  
Varric laughed while Fenris shook his head, anger flaring slightly in his eyes, "Fenris here is our resident brooder. He broods…a lot. You get used to it after a while, though."  
"Oh. Well perhaps there is good reason." Sylvestrie smiled almost shyly at Fenris who was now openly glaring at Varric, the glare softening to a brief half-smile as he looked at Sylvestrie.  
"I do not brood," Fenris muttered.  
"Uh-huh," Varric chuckled, "I need those sovereigns you owe me, by the way."  
"I'm good for it," Fenris replied, earning another laugh from Varric.  
"Never play cards with an Elf, Sylvestrie. They never pay their debts," Varric warned with a grin.  
"Fine, _dwarf_. Come to the mansion with me now and I'll give you your coin."

Fenris stood and held a hand out to Sylvestrie, helping her up; keeping a careful eye on her ankle to ensure she was still in no pain.

The trio made their way out of the tavern and into darkness, lit only by a few lamps here and there.  
As they walked to Fenris' mansion, Varric pointed out various places and landmarks to Sylvestrie; occasionally peppering his narrative with short (and usually comical) anecdotes.  
As they entered the district that Varric said was Hightown, six men descended on them from out of nowhere. They were dressed in dark clothing, no armor (that could be seen, anyway) and were all armed with short swords.  
Varric immediately melted into the shadows, Fenris drew his weapon and stepped in front of Sylvestrie; shielding her.  
One of the men raised a hand and the rest of them stopped moving. He spoke, his voice muffled behind the cowl he wore.

"Don't you know it's dangerous to walk the streets at night?"  
"For you, perhaps," Fenris answered.

In what felt like a split second, the air was filled with the sounds of metal clashing against metal and arrows that fell from the sky like lethal raindrops.  
Fenris had taken two of the men down already; his lyrium markings flaring bright blue against the darkness of the streets; Varric was sending out damage with deadly aim from his place in the shadows and the battle looked to be theirs until two more men appeared from nowhere and surround Fenris.  
Their swords swung at him and he yelled out in pain as a one of the swords pierced his skin. His concentration was lost momentarily and he faltered; giving the attackers the advantage. Varric was sending out arrows as fast as he could but to no avail as Fenris was backed into a corner. Sylvestrie bent and picked up both the swords from the fallen men and moved from shadow to shadow, advancing on them as quickly as she could without being heard.  
One of them noticed her and shouted something to his comrades. They turned on Sylvestrie, and she backed away slowly, allowing them a false sense of security.  
As they drew closer to her, she crouched and sprang up in the air, swords twirling in her hands as she landed on her feet behind them. She drove the swords into the back of one man and he fell, blood spreading onto the ground underneath him.  
The others turned in a stunned silence and she smiled at them.

"Are you ready to admit defeat, yet, boys?" She asked, sweetly.  
"You'll pay for that, bitch." One of them growled and they moved towards her in unison, their swords glinting in the lamp lights.

Sylvestrie sprang up in the air again and vanished from sight; only to drop down from a window ledge above the men. As she landed, her swords tore through the necks of two men and they dropped before anyone knew what had happened.  
Fenris dove forward, his sword slicing through another man leaving two standing; Varric sent an arrow into one of them with such force it pinned him to a wall. His pained gurgle as he gasped for breath made the remaining man pale and he ran only to fall to the ground as one of the short swords Sylvestrie was using thudded into his back.

Sylvestrie turned and looked at Fenris' arm. Although the blood was no longer flowing, the wound looked nasty and without thinking, she tore a piece of material from the bottom of the tunic she wore and wrapped it round his arm.  
He nodded his thanks and the three moved as quickly as they could towards his mansion.  
Once inside, Sylvestrie looked around at the crumbling walls and the cracked tiles of the floor. She became aware of Fenris watching her and turned to smile at him over her shoulder.

"I like what you have done with your estate, Fenris," she said carefully.  
"Yes," Varric laughed, "it just screams 'paint me', right?"  
"I ran out of wine." Fenris said simply, causing Varric to laugh.  
"Wine...? You decorate with...You're joking. Of course you're joking."

Fenris made a valiant attempt to hide his chuckle and failed.  
Varric patted the girl on the arm and smiled up at her, "ask Hawke next time you see her," Varric winked, took his coin from Fenris and bowed slightly to Sylvestrie, "good job back there by the way; thanks for stepping in."  
"I could not stand idly by while they had you outnumbered."

Varric nodded and left, telling Fenris and Sylvestrie that they were welcome to join him in the Hanged Man for Diamondback another evening.

Fenris removed the cloth from his arm and groaned quietly.  
Sylvestrie looked worriedly at him and took his arm to inspect the wound, "does it hurt badly? Should I find Anders?" She asked.  
The concern in her voice and eyes made Fenris smile briefly and he shook his head, "no, I am fine; but thank you. It could well have been worse had you not been there."  
"In that case, I'm glad I was. Who were those men?"  
"I do not know. Kirkwall has its share of opportunistic groups that prey on weaker citizens in the dark."  
Sylvestrie shook her head, "I bet those men will think twice now, though!"  
"I would hope so," Fenris chuckled.

A friendly silence settled upon them and for a moment, Sylvestrie was content to simply let her gaze wander around the room they were in. It was a fair size and obviously meant as a drawing room at one point. She noticed a small stack of books on a little table with a reading lamp and a large over -stuffed chair next to it.

"Do you read much, Fenris?" She asked.  
"Hmm...Not a great deal. But then, as a slave I was never permitted to read; so it was only recently – and thanks to Hawke – that I learned."  
"Hawke taught you to read? That's a lovely thing to do for a person."  
"She was very patient with me, which was a blessing. It is not a quality I possess, unfortunately."  
Sylvestrie laughed, "Alis always told me that I was impatience personified. I hated waiting to be good at something; I just wanted to know it and be good already."  
"I had many a conversation with Hawke regarding what virtue patience is. I still don't believe her."

Sylvestrie laughed, nodding in agreement until a quiet gurgle cut through the conversation and Sylvestrie felt her cheeks redden at the sound.

"I'm so sorry. I've not eaten for..." She trailed off, unable to remember the last time she had eaten a proper meal.

Fenris stood and gestured for her to follow him.

They entered a large kitchen and Fenris began opening cupboards and closing them; muttering to himself. After a while, he gave up and shrugged apologetically at Sylvestrie.  
"I...do not entertain guests very often. At all, actually, so I have nothing I can offer - unless you happen to enjoy stale bread?"  
"That depends on how stale it is?" Sylvestrie asked with a slight laugh.  
Fenris handed the loaf to her and she turned it over in her hands; eventually knocking it gently on the wooden table in the middle of the room. It made a dull, hollow noise and then broke, falling to the floor with a thumping noise.  
After a moment of silence, Sylvestrie erupted into laughter and Fenris could not help but join in – he found the sound almost enchanting.

"I do not think even the rats of Darktown would eat that!" He sputtered.  
"You know, this could make a useful weapon. We should've used it on those men that attacked us!"  
"Well, that settles it. I will ask Hawke if her servant has anything left for us to eat."  
"Would she mind? It is late in the evening, though."  
"Ah, Hawke keeps late hours; it will be fine. Would you like to come along?"  
"I'd like that. Shall I bring the bread in case we're set upon again?" She grinned wickedly and was rewarded with a deep chuckle.

Fenris held his arm out – something he had never done before and was unsure as to why he was doing so now – and Sylvestrie took it; keeping a light hold on his arm, careful to touch only where his armor rested against his skin.

They left the mansion and walked slowly towards where Hawke lived. Thankfully, they reached her estate without incident and Fenris rapped lightly on the door. Anders opened it with a suspicious look on his face, holding the door open for them to enter as Hawke walked towards them from a large reception room opposite the door.

"Fenris, is everything alright?" She asked in a concerned tone.  
"Yes, everything is fine with the exception of my guests' hunger and my lack of food. Did Orana have anything left over today?"  
"Of course – that girl is trying to fatten me up, I swear it! You know where the kitchen is, help yourself."  
"Thank you, Hawke." Fenris walked into the kitchen and Hawke looked over at Sylvestrie.  
"I meant to ask before we left the Hanged Man if you have need of any clothes at all?" Hawke asked.  
"I have only what I am wearing." Sylvestrie replied, softly.  
"In that case, come with me. I am sure I have something that you can have."  
Hawke led Sylvestrie upstairs and into a small dressing room that had a large armoire against one wall. Hawke opened the armoire and rifled through the contents before pulling out several items of clothing and a pair of comfortable looking black long boots.

"Try these on – if they fit then you can have them."

Sylvestrie took the clothes and murmured a thank you as she stepped behind the partition.

Most of the clothes fit her perfectly and she decided upon a pair of black leggings, a long sleeved black shirt and a deep purple tunic that sat at mid-thigh. The boots were soft, black leather and came up just under her knees; with a sheath for a dagger strapped tightly around the right calf.  
She stepped out from behind the partition and Hawke smiled approvingly.

"Much better – do you like them?"  
"Yes, I do, thank you very much. I appreciate your kindness; it's something I am not used to."  
"Hmm...You remind me of Fenris when I first met him. He wasn't used to it either."  
"He seems a worthy friend to have. He has shown me a kindness that I would not have expected."

Hawke smiled and guided Sylvestrie to a small stool in front of a mirror and slowly started brushing her hair; "he is an admirable man," she said, setting the brush down.

"I actually look presentable now, thank you, Hawke," Sylvestrie smiled, her eyes holding a gratitude she could not voice.  
"You are more than welcome. Now, let's go and find Fenris before he steals all the food, hmm?"

They entered the kitchen to find Fenris eating some cold chicken and Anders perching on a wooden stool trying to fend off the large Mabari hound begging for scraps.  
"I told you, no, now bugger off!" Anders grumbled.  
Hawke laughed at the crestfallen expression on the dogs face and pointed to the door leading into the garden. The dog snorted and stalked out; in what would have been a dignified manner had he not tripped over his own paws on the way.  
Fenris looked up and dropped the chicken leg he had been holding, "I...Um...You look very nice, Sylvestrie."  
"_Gratios_," she murmured and Fenris' eyes widened.  
"You speak...?"  
"A little, yes. I had to in order to know what I was being told to do."  
Hawke and Anders traded confused looks; although Hawke smiled inwardly at the expression on Fenris' face.  
"Well then," Fenris looked at Sylvestrie with an appreciative half smile, "I am...impressed."

Sylvestrie lowered her eyes, a light pink flush spreading over her cheeks.  
Fenris gathered the food he had found and stood, placing it into a small pack that he slung across his body. He thanked Hawke and Anders and Sylvestrie gave Hawke a brief hug, whispering a thank you for the clothes. Hawke nodded and led them to the front door, bidding them a good night.

Arriving back at Fenris' mansion, they opened the food and ate in a comfortable silence. Fenris noted that Sylvestrie yawned on occasion and after a while he found that he was doing much the same.

"I have only one bedroom that is...habitable, however I am fortunate enough to be able to sleep anywhere; so the bedroom is yours."  
Sylvestrie shook her head, "It is enough that you saved my life, Fenris, I cannot encroach upon your space like that. I am happy to sleep elsewhere, but your bedroom is your own. It would not be right for me to take it."  
"I can see that this would be a futile argument to have; but I insist," he held up his hands to stop her saying anything more, "please _amica_."  
Sylvestrie smiled warmly, "as you wish. Where do I go?"

Fenris led her through the mansion and to the bedroom, sending up silent thanks that it was relatively clean.  
"If you have need of me, I will likely be in the room we were in earlier. I hope you manage to rest well, Sylvestrie."  
She stood up on tip-toe and brushed a quick kiss over his cheek, then stepped back her eyes lowered slightly, "rest well, Fenris, pleasant dreams."

He nodded and left the room, closing the door quietly behind him. His fingertips hovered over his cheek and he frowned; unable to figure out whether he was touched or unsettled.  
Something about the girl intrigued him, charmed him and worried him. He wanted to protect her; he wanted to ensure her safety at all costs and yet...  
He shrugged and walked into the drawing room, settling into the over-stuffed chair by the small table he picked up a book and before he had even read the first word he was asleep.

**.o.o.o.**  
_I've done what a lot of writers have done and used Latin as a rough base for Arcanum here._  
_Translations_  
_Gratios=thank you_  
_Amica=friend_


	4. Chapter 4

**~authors note~**  
**BioWare own the characters and settings (except Sylvestrie, she's all mine!) I am just playing with them all for a while.**  
**.o.o.o.**

**FOUR.**

Hawke lay curled by her husband, her arm encircling his waist; watching the early rising sun leave a pale glow across their bodies.  
He tightened his arm around her shoulders and kissed the top of her head.

"I think Fenris is a little taken with Sylvestrie, you know," she murmured.  
"Mm, I had noticed from the way he looked at her last night," Anders smiled down at his wife; stroking her hair gently, "there seems to be a strange familiarity between them, though."  
"I had thought that, it's as if they instinctively know each other – I don't think I've seen him that comfortable around someone else before."  
"Maybe they have a connection through what they've both been through. Both sold as slaves, both branded – it has to make you feel empathy for another, I suppose."  
"Good point," Hawke looked up at Anders and kissed his cheek gently and grimaced she heard a soft tap at their bedroom door.

"Messere, I'm sorry to bother you but Ser Fenris is here to speak to you," Bodhans' voice floated through the door and Hawke groaned.  
"Thank you, Bodhan, we'll be there shortly," she heard him shuffling back downstairs and grumbled into Anders' shoulder, "just once I would like a morning where we can sleep."  
Anders grinned wickedly and playfully pinned her down, "are you sure that sleep is what you had in mind, my love?"  
"Hmm..." Hawke allowed her gaze to travel down his body and arched an eyebrow at him with a devilish smile; "you raise an excellent..._point_..."

They dressed quickly and found Fenris in their drawing room, pacing back and forth.  
Anders motioned to the kitchen and Hawke nodded; knowing that he was offering to make tea for them while she found out what Fenris' pacing was about.

"Morning, Fenris. Are you wearing my rug out for a reason or do you just not like it?"  
He stopped pacing and looked at her, "I...I do not know...I am troubled."  
"Well, I can see that. What's troubling you?"  
"Sylvestrie," his answer was short and yet told Hawke everything she needed to know.  
"Ah," came her soft reply, "I assume this is not a good troubled, then?"  
"I do not know. I feel as though I know her, as though I knew her. I am filled with a need to protect her and I barely know her; but there is something..." He trailed off as Anders entered the room carrying a tray holding a silver teapot and three cups.

He declined a cup and continued his pacing, occasionally muttering something in his native tongue that did not sound overly polite.  
Eventually Hawke stood and blocked his path; directing him to a nearby chair, "I am rather fond of that rug, Fenris."  
"I apologize," Fenris looked contrite, "I just do not know what is happening."  
"I can offer advice if someone can fill me in," Anders looked up from pouring himself a second cup of tea.

Fenris grumbled to himself – despite having known Anders for quite some time, he still harbored a dislike for the mage. Truthfully, it was only that he kept Hawke happy that redeemed him at all in Fenris' eyes.  
Fenris sighed, realizing that the mage was really the lesser of quite a few evils – he could not see himself speaking to Varric or (Maker forbid) Isabela about this.  
He sat and for a moment, closed his eyes as if steeling himself for something and was thankful when Hawke quickly informed Anders of his predicament.

"I see," Anders murmured, "this must be a strange feeling for you."  
"You are the master of the understatement, mage," Fenris growled. Hawke rolled her eyes and placed a hand on her husbands' arm to stop him retaliating.

Fenris stood as if to start pacing again, but Hawke shot him a look that clearly said "don't even think of it" and he promptly sat back down.  
He sighed and looked helplessly at the couple sitting across from him, "so – what do I _do_? Do I do _anything_?"  
"That really depends, Fenris," Hawke said, "is it just a sense of having known her before that's bothering you, or something more?"  
"I don't know what you mean."  
"Well, are you more perturbed by the thought that you may have known her before and she's triggered some memory for you; or are you more worried that you don't actually know her and she's had this effect on you in such a short time?"

Fenris opened his mouth to answer and then realized that he couldn't. He shrugged one shoulder slightly and shook his head, "I...I don't know..." He trailed off and stared into Hawkes' empty tea cup, "I just wish I understood this. I feel...unbalanced."  
Hawke looked at him, a mixture of shock and kindness in her eyes, "perhaps the best thing to do right now is just to spend time with her, talk to her – you won't know where this feeling has come from unless you do that."  
"Hm, you're right, as always, Hawke," Fenris nodded, "I shall go home and offer her some breakfast."  
"Here, take these pastries to share," Hawke handed him a small basket, "Orana made them and they are delicious; but there's far too many left even after giving some to Bodhan and Sandal. If you would like to, bring Sylvestrie to the Hanged Man later today; there's something I need to talk to everyone about and it might be nice for her to come along."  
"I will mention it to her. Thank you, Hawke," Fenris nodded briefly and took the basket of pastries, leaving the estate to head home.

He walked at a slow pace, feeling relief at having gotten some of his worry and anxiety out he felt better; however now the worry of how to simply talk to Sylvestrie was weighing on his mind.

**.o.o.o.**

Sylvestrie had woken early and noted with a strange sadness that Fenris had already left the mansion. She was not used to having free reign of another persons' abode and felt that she should at least make herself useful as a way of thanking Fenris for his kindness.  
After washing and dressing, she headed downstairs into the kitchen area. She looked around and set herself to work – first by sweeping and mopping the floors downstairs (as best she could, anyway) and then by washing the dishes and cutlery, then drying them with a clean rag and stacking them in a cupboard.  
As she finished, she heard a rustling noise and frowned, stilling herself to hear a little better. There was the sound of glass being crunched underfoot followed by a muted oath and Sylvestrie picked up the sharpest kitchen knife she could find and quietly slipped out of the kitchen; pressing herself into the shadows along the walls.

A dark figure passed her and without warning she had them in her grasp; one arm tight around their neck, her free hand holding the knife to their throat.  
"I suggest you leave the easy way, friend," she said in a low voice, "before I show you what I do with trespassers."  
A throaty chuckle arose from her captive and she froze; recognizing the voice that followed it, "I am quite sure that what you do with trespassers is formidable; but it is not necessary here."  
Sylvestrie moved back, her hand pressed to her mouth in horror at her actions, "my apologies, Fenris, I did not realize that it was you," Sylvestrie lowered her head, her eyes cast to the floor, "please, forgive my impulsive actions."  
"You have no reason to apologize, Sylvestrie. You reacted as I probably would have done. It is good to know that I have someone willing to defend my…home…or myself."  
Sylvestrie smiled at this, "I would not wish harm to come your way. But I did react without thinking; I hope I didn't cause you any pain?"  
"Not at all," Fenris replied warmly, "I have some breakfast, if you're hungry?"  
"I attack you in your own home and you offer me breakfast? You are a strange one, Fenris; but thank you, let me get some plates."

She took out two plates and noticed Fenris looking around at the kitchen.

"Is something wrong?" She asked, concerned.  
He shook his head and gestured around the room, "you did all of this?"  
"I did. I found myself at a loose end and wanted to show my gratitude for your kindness toward me."  
"There was no need, but I thank you. I do not think that this place has ever been cleaned – even before I came here."

Sylvestrie smiled and bit into one of the pastries, closing her eyes in delight. Fenris watched her curiously for a moment and deduced that she had probably never eaten anything of this nature before.

"This is delicious, where did you find these?" She asked, finishing the last bite.  
"Ah, you remember Orana – Hawke's servant? She makes them; she's a very accomplished cook."  
"I'll say. I think I may end up horribly rounded if I eat like this every morning!"  
Fenris half-smiled at that, "well if you're worried, I'm sure that Hawke would not mind having you come along on any jobs we have."  
"I'd like that," Sylvestrie smiled across the table at him, "would she mind having someone as untrained as I am along?"  
"Hmm, after the way you fought the other evening, I do not think she would mind one bit."

Sylvestrie felt a flush creeping over her cheeks at the compliment and busied herself taking the dishes to the sink to wash them to hide her pleased embarrassment. Fenris was puzzled by her reaction; _did she not know how talented a fighter she was?_  
There was a silence between them as she washed the plates and he lost himself in his thoughts momentarily until he heard her humming a melody that was at once familiar and strange to him.

"What is that?" He asked softly.  
"Hmm?" She asked, idly, "what is what?"  
"That tune you are humming – what is it?"  
"I did not realize I was doing that, I apologize," she cast her eyes downwards – _a remnant of her days as a slave_, Fenris thought.  
"It was not unpleasant, Sylvestrie. I thought I knew it, but I could not place where from."  
"My master used to make me sing and play the lute for him and his guests. It was probably something I used to sing for him," she closed her eyes briefly and Fenris saw a flash of pain in them as she opened them again, "apparently before I was a slave I was quite the musician."

Fenris nodded and ended the conversation by motioning for her to follow him.

"I have something for you," he led her into a small room at the end of a long winding corridor. The room contained two large racks of weapons; mostly large two-handed swords that glinted wickedly in the dim lamp-light.  
Fenris walked over to one of the racks, picked up two large, curved daggers and passed them to Sylvestrie, "I know that you lost the blades Alis had given to you and I know that nothing on this earth will replace them; but..."  
He trailed off, looking almost shyly at Sylvestrie who took the daggers and turned them over in her hands; testing the weight and how easy they moved.  
She swung them with ease, the hilt fit perfectly into her small hands and without warning she launched into a series of complex looking jumps and twists, slashing through the air with the blades.

She landed gracefully and beamed up at Fenris, "I love them! Thank you, so much, you have no idea..." It was her turn to trail off as words took their chance to fail her completely; leaving her speechless.  
She chose instead to place a kiss on Fenris' cheek.

"Then they are yours to keep, _amica_." Fenris was surprised at how easily that word sprang to his lips when talking to her.  
"Well then..._gratios, mei cara_," she winked at him and near skipped out of the room, leaving Fenris to watch in silence as a small smile graced his lips.

**.o.o.o.**  
_Translations_  
_Amica = friend || Gratios = thank you || Mei cara = my dear_


	5. Chapter 5

**~authors note~**  
**BioWare own the characters and settings (except Sylvestrie, she's all mine!) I am just playing with them all for a while.**  
**~please note that this chapter does contain slight reference to non-con, so be aware~**

**.o.o.o.**

**FIVE.**

The Hanged Man was filled with laughter, chatter and an atmosphere of camaraderie. Varric was in his favorite position as story-teller; weaving tales that seemed impossible but that all knew to be quite true.  
As he ended one particular story involving Hawke, a high dragon and a rather potent ice spell; the heroine of the story walked in with her husband; earning cheers and applause.  
Behind her came Fenris and Sylvestrie, the latter looking confused at the commotion.

"Does this happen a lot?" She whispered to the elf, who was trying to suppress the urge to roll his eyes at the adulation from the crowd.  
"Only when Varric is feeling particularly talkative," he replied dryly, "so...yes. It happens with annoying frequency."

Sylvestrie giggled at that and followed Fenris to the large table in Varric's suite. Within minutes of them taking a seat, two large mugs of ale and two slender goblets filled with wine appeared in front of them.  
Sylvestrie waited until the other three had taken their drinks and was pleased to find she had been left with the goblet and not the mug. She sipped the wine and allowed herself to gaze around the suite, half-listening to the conversation at her own table.  
Eventually Isabela and Merrill walked in, closely followed by Aveline. They took drinks from the bar and settled around the table; eager to hear what Hawke had to tell them.

"Right, pleasantries aside; this could be pretty important," Hawke wasted no time in getting right to the point.  
Everyone leaned forward, anticipating a job that could mean a good sized reward for them all. Hawke grinned and handed out small thick envelopes to the group; earning puzzled glances.  
Isabela was the first to open hers and she groaned loudly, slapping the contents onto the table.

"Are you serious?!" She cried out, "There's **no way** I am doing this. No."  
"I'm afraid you have no choice, Isa," Hawke said, "it is mandatory."

Fenris opened his envelope and managed to make out that it was an invitation to a masquerade ball and banquet at the Viscounts Keep that evening. It was, as Hawke had said, mandatory attendance for not only Hawke but all of her companions.

"Oh how exciting!" Merrill exclaimed, "is Sylvestrie coming as well?"  
"Of course, the invitation is open to all of my friends. In fact, I insist upon it," Hawke replied with a broad smile, "if you are worried about having suitable attire, I can help you with that and I know a woman in Lowtown with the most incredible masks, too."  
"Thank you, I would appreciate that."  
"Then it's settled and you and I will go in a moment to find you something to wear," she kissed Anders on the cheek, "and I shall find you a mask too, love."

He grumbled under his breath, but it was in good humor, "I hate these functions."  
"Well, it's either that or you lose at cards with Sandal and the dog," Hawke chuckled and Anders pretended to sigh and grouse about the options.

Eventually everyone gave up with the protestations about the ball and talk soon turned to what would be worn.  
Merrill asked Isabela to help her find something suitable to wear and they left the Hanged Man to search through the stalls of the Lowtown bazaar.  
The party soon dispersed to carry out their usual daily routines and only Hawke, Anders, Fenris and Sylvestrie were left.

Hawke stood and smiled down at Sylvestrie, "shall we go shopping for this evening, then?"  
"I'd like that, thank you, again."

Hawke linked her arm through Sylvestrie's and nodded decisively, towing her towards the exit; leaving Sylvestrie barely chance to wave a goodbye to Fenris. He nodded, watching her with a thoughtful expression on his face.

**.o.o.o.**

"Makers_ breath_, Sylvestrie, stop tugging on it!"  
"Sorry, Hawke, I'm just not used to it."

Hawke shook her head with a smile, adjusting the heavy velvet dress that Sylvestrie wore.  
It was a deep purple, so dark it could almost be black, the top a corset that laced at the back with a ribbon that almost matched her eyes.  
Sylvestrie caught a glimpse of herself in the large free standing mirror in Hawkes bedroom and smiled a little – even if the corset was the most uncomfortable contraption in all of Thedas; she was happy with the overall look.  
The dress fell to the floor, the sleeves sitting just off-shoulder and tapering at the wrist. Her mask was the same color as the dress; with tiny clear crystals decorating it.  
Finally, Hawke had pinned up what she could of her short hair, leaving the rest to fall in tendrils around her face.

"There, now, I think we look very good; don't you?" Hawke stood behind Sylvestrie to see herself in the mirror while she fixed her mask, her deep red dress hugging her slender frame.  
Sylvestrie nodded slowly, before turning to Hawke with a shy smile.

"Thank you for helping me to get ready – I would not have known where to start!"  
"You are always very welcome. Now, I think that Fenris will near die of shock when he sees you dressed up like this."

Sylvestrie giggled, trying to hide her delight at Hawkes' promise of such a reaction. She wasn't sure why it mattered so much; but it was something that she was not about to argue with herself over. As she turned to look at the back of her dress, she caught sight of the markings on her shoulders and grimaced.  
Hawke noticed her discomfort and patted her arm gently, "I do not think that anyone will be looking at those while you are dressed like this! Let's go and greet our escorts, shall we?"

Sylvestrie nodded, determined to forget about the markings. For tonight, at least, she would allow herself to feel free and be happy.

Hawke led the way downstairs and was greeted by her husband, dressed almost entirely in black; save for a deep red waistcoat that matched Hawke's dress perfectly. He smiled broadly as she descended the stairs and took her hand, kissing it and pulling her to him in an embrace.

"You look beautiful, love," he whispered to her, "I almost wish we did not have to attend this thing."

Hawke giggled, pressing a kiss to Anders' cheek, before turning to watch Fenris' reaction as Sylvestrie slowly walked down the stairs.  
Fenris was dressed similarly to Anders; except his waistcoat was a deep mossy green and he wore longer leggings rather than breeches. Much to his chagrin, he was wearing shoes. Sylvestrie smiled to him as she approached him, his eyes widening at her appearance. He noticed her eyes looked even paler, almost luminescent and as she neared him, her hair shone like silk under the candlelight. He bowed slightly at the waist, took her hand and tucked in under his arm.

"You are very handsome, Fenris," she murmured softly.  
"And I will be the envy of every man attending tonight," he replied, smiling to himself at the flush that spread over her cheeks.

**.o.o.o.**

The Keep was full of laughter, music and merriment by the time Hawke and her companions arrived.

Sylvestrie was awed by everything; especially the dancing. The music sounded beautiful, reminding her of the nights she used to hear faint sounds from the small room in her masters estate. She closed her eyes for a moment, just relishing the fact that for once she was part of something that she had always dreamt of; rather than sitting far away wishing that her life was different.  
Fenris noticed the faraway expression in her eyes and in a gesture that surprised everyone, offered his hand to her.

"Would you honor me with a dance, my Lady?" He asked, with a smile quirking his lips.  
"I would love to, Ser," Sylvestrie replied with a shy smile.

He led her through the crowd to where people were dancing and curled an arm around her waist, his hand resting lightly on the small of her back; his other hand taking hers and leading her in a dance that she just instinctively _knew_.  
Hawke smiled, nudging Anders who chuckled with a shake of his head.

"What?!" Hawke asked with a laugh.  
"You are incorrigible, love," he replied, "I know what you're thinking."  
"You do not!"

Anders looked at her, raising his eyebrows until she burst out laughing; causing a small group of noblemen to look her way. She covered her mouth and smiled demurely at them; rolling her eyes when they looked away.

"Fine, so you do know what I'm thinking. But it's not such a leap. It's obvious that there's something there."  
"I don't disagree, but leave it to them to figure out," he stood and pulled her to his feet, "now, dance with me woman!"  
"Your chivalry is what I love most about you, dear," Hawke chuckled, shaking her head and following him to the rest of the dancing couples.

Sylvestrie was enjoying herself far more than she had hoped. Fenris was a surprisingly accomplished dancer – light on his feet and quick to learn steps if he did not know them.  
The song picked up the pace slightly and he twirled Sylvestrie out and back into him; feeling pleased and happy as she laughed, her face flushed lightly.  
As the song ended, he dipped her low to the floor and brought her back up sharply to face him and for a moment they stayed looking at each other; pressed close together.  
He leant his forehead against hers briefly and felt her breath ghosting over his skin. A tap on his shoulder made him grumble inwardly and he turned to see the Seneschal offering his hand to Sylvestrie.

"May I have this dance, my Lady?" Bran asked formally.

Not knowing how to handle a situation like this, Sylvestrie looked at Fenris for help. Knowing that if he refused Bran's' request, it would anger him; Fenris took a step backwards with a dark look in his eyes.

Bran led her away from Fenris which disconcerted her somewhat. She instantly felt something akin to distrust for this man; something in his eyes made her feel cold.  
He was not as light on his feet as Fenris; neither was he as considerate. He stepped on her toes time and again, causing her to wince.

"You are new here, are you not?" He asked suddenly.  
"Y – yes…I am, Messere."  
"Then it is my duty as the Seneschal to warn you that that elf is naught but trouble. You would be wise to ensure you do not become too close to him."  
Sylvestrie bristled, "I hardly think that my friendships are your concern, Messere."  
Bran glared at her, hand tightening at her waist, "I hardly think you have the standing to speak to me as such."  
"I will speak as I need to." She tried to wriggle free, but he tightened his hold again.  
"Then perhaps you need to be taught proper manners when speaking to your betters." His eyes flashed dangerously as his fingers dug into her sides, twisting the fabric of her dress and Sylvestrie flinched as she felt bruises forming under his fingers.  
"I apologize, Messere," her head dropped, her eyes cast down towards the floor and Bran nodded, satisfied.  
"That's what I thought."

The Seneschal kept her for another two dances, noting that she now kept her eyes downcast. He smiled as dark, twisted thoughts occupied his mind.

After a while, he took Sylvestrie by the wrist and led her to a balcony overlooking the impressive and beautifully kept gardens.  
He kept his hands at her waist, holding her as though she would bolt at any moment. He leaned forward, the fingers of one hand digging into her hip painfully and the other hand creeping slowly and lecherously from her waist upwards as he face loomed into her vision.  
Sylvestrie flinched backwards at the look in his eyes; it was cold and dangerous.  
Bran pulled her tightly towards him, the roaming hand now rapidly moving upwards and Sylvestrie twisted to try and avoid it's now obvious destination. Bran hissed and pushed her against the balcony; the stone digging into her lower back.  
Sylvestrie felt needles of panic starting at the base of her spine as she realized she had no way out of this situation and Bran leaned toward her again, forcing his lips on hers.  
She let out a panicked whimper, struggling against the unwanted advance and the Seneschal pushed himself against her to stop her movement.

Sylvestrie allowed herself to drift away in her mind as his hands roamed over her body.

_Somewhere I can hear music, it's not coming from the ball here; it's brighter and livelier. I wonder if it's coming from the Hanged Man. I like it here, Kirkwall seems nice; even if Fenris' mansion does need sprucing up somewhat. __**Why won't he just stop pawing me?**__ I think I'll definitely take Hawke up on her offer of helping her out on her jobs sometime; I could use the practice, especially now I have those beautiful new daggers. That was a sweet gesture Fenris made, I wish I knew how to voice the thought I had earlier while we talked…__**DON'T touch me there, please stop, please**__…_

A flash of blue, a rush of air sweeping across Sylvestrie's body and Bran was against the wall opposite the balcony.

"You will leave this ball now, but not before you apologize to my Lady for mistreating her in such a base manner," Fenris' voice was low, quiet and very dangerous.

The Seneschal scoffed and Fenris raised his right arm, the lyrium glowing fiercely. Bran flinched as his eyes widened. He stammered an apology and Fenris moved back a fraction of an inch, so that Bran had to squeeze past him in order to leave.  
Sylvestrie let out a breath and Fenris stood in front of her, tipping her chin up gently with a fingertip.

"Did he hurt you?" Fenris sounded calm now, his voice belying the anger he had just shown.  
"No, he just…he…" Sylvestrie cast her eyes downward, suddenly unable to look at Fenris. She was ashamed of the hot tears pricking at the corners of her eyes and ashamed that she had needed rescuing yet again.  
"I am taking you home. Stay here while I find Hawke to tell her."

Fenris left and returned within what felt like mere seconds. He took Sylvestries' hand, tucked it under his arm and escorted her out of the Keep.

The journey to his mansion was silent. Sylvestrie kept her eyes on the ground as they walked, although she was aware of Fenris slanting his eyes to her every so often in concern. He only let go of her arm once they were standing outside the front door.  
He pushed and it stayed closed. With an aggravated sigh, he tried again and gained the same result. Sylvestrie arched an eyebrow slightly, watching the altercation between the elf and his door.  
The third time, Fenris threw as much energy into shoving the door as possible; this time making it creak and splinter partially but still it held fast.

"_Imprecatio_!" he cursed, "what is wrong with this thing?!" He turned to apologize to Sylvestrie and found that she had vanished.  
Fearing that the Seneschal had followed them home, he cast his eyes around the shadowed areas by his mansion. A loud cracking sound behind him made him jump and he spun around to see Sylvestrie standing in the now open doorway.  
"How did you….?" He blinked in surprise.  
"I noticed that there was a window open up there; so I climbed through it and opened the door from the inside. I hope you do not mind?"

Fenris looked up at the window she was pointing to and then back to the girl shaking his head in disbelief as he walked into the mansion. How she had managed to climb up the wall was baffling to him.

"I don't mind at all. Thank you, that blasted door needs fixing I think. Temperamental piece of…." Fenris pushed it closed, grumbling and muttering curses to it as it swung neatly closed with no problem.

They moved into the drawing room, Fenris pausing to stir a fire into life while Sylvestrie lit a few candle lamps. She sat down in a large chair drawing her knees up and wrapping her arms around them; Fenris taking the one opposite.  
"Are you feeling alright now?" He asked after a moments' silence.  
"I think so, thank you. I don't even know how you knew I needed help."  
"I saw the way that…man…looked at you as he took you to dance. I stayed back, but watched you both. When I saw him take you to the balcony, I thought he might try something…like that."  
Sylvestrie smiled, a hint of sadness crossing her delicate features, "well, I appreciate you keeping an eye on me. It appears I have something of a guardian in you."  
"A position I do not take lightly, _amica_." Fenris inclined his head slightly, a half-smile crossing his lips.

A companionable silence settled over them and Sylvestrie watched the flames dance lazily in the fireplace. She could still hear strains of music; the same she heard from the Keeps' balcony and after a while the flames seemed to twist and flicker to the tune that she could only half hear.  
Fenris watched her for a moment and then silently walked through to the kitchen. He knew that she must still be a little shell-shocked over what had happened earlier and remembered Hawke telling him once that hot tea was a good healer.  
He placed a small pan of water onto the stove, sending up silent thanks that there were still tea leaves in the cupboards. As he waited for the water to heat he spotted a chunk of bread on the floor and smiled at the memory.  
Lost in that thought, he made tea for himself and Sylvestrie, carrying the cups into the drawing room. As he placed the cups down, he saw the rhythmic rise and fall of Sylvestrie's chest and realized she had fallen asleep.  
Fenris debated lifting her to carry her to the bedroom so she could sleep comfortably but was wary of waking her. He darted upstairs, returning with a blanket and gently tucked it around her, smoothing her hair away from her face.  
Satisfied she was at least semi comfortable, he picked up his cup and quietly started to back out of the room. As he got to the doorway, he saw her shift and then settle again.

"Thank you, _tutella_," she murmured sleepily.  
Fenris smiled, moving to her chair and gently placing a kiss to the top of her head, "you are welcome, _decora_."

Her breathing settled back into a familiar pattern and he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, leaving the room silently.

**.o.o.o.**  
_Translations_  
_Imprecatio = damnation || Amica = friend || Tutella = guardian/protector_  
_Decora = beautiful_


	6. Chapter 6

~authors note~  
BioWare own the characters and settings (except Sylvestrie, she's all mine!) I am just playing with them all for a while.  
_-sorry for taking so long to upload the next part...Solipsism and Calibrations took up more time than I thought!-_  
**.o.o.o.**

**SIX.**

The cries of raiders filled the air interspersed with the sound of clashing metal. The smell of magic filtered through the noise; a combination of earth, fire and crackling electricity.  
The raiders advanced, daunted but aggression fueled them, propelling them forward with their weapons raised.

Fenris moved through them in a blur of bright blue; his sword carving a path through the raiders as though they were simply air. They fell to the floor with wordless, soundless cries; shock in their eyes.  
A bolt of lightning surged past Fenris, catching another raider off guard. He sank to his knees, as though in prayer and then toppled to one side as shards of ice sliced through him.  
A cheer sounded from behind Fenris as a bolt shot through the air; whizzing mere inches past his ear and embedding itself in the last raider. It caught him in the throat and he sank to the ground, mouth open in surprise; eyes wide with confusion.

"Bianca you minx!" Varric cried, "That was beautiful!"

Hawke laughed and Fenris shook his head in amusement as he made his way back to the others.  
Sylvestrie joined them from the shadows where she had been picking the straggling raiders off one by one; sheathing her dual blades with a smile.

"Well, we made short work of them," Fenris said, "all that is left is for us to inform Aveline that the roads are safe again."  
"For a while, at least," Hawke added.

They set off, Hawke occasionally stopping to pick up pieces of the elfroot that randomly grew at the sides of the path.  
As they approached the path leading away from the Wounded Coast and back to Kirkwall; Sylvestrie tensed, her ears picking up on a sound that didn't belong in the otherwise peaceful atmosphere.  
Fenris looked sidelong at her, an eyebrow raised in question; Hawke and Varric turning to look at her over their shoulders.  
Sylvestrie looked past Fenris and in the blink of an eye vanished, leaving nothing behind her at all.  
They turned to see if they could track her; when a scream broke the silence from the winding path that led north. Fenris ran after the scream and abruptly stopped at the sight that greeted him causing Hawke and Varric to barrel into him.  
Sylvestrie had sensed two more raiders and was happily engaging them in a fight. She moved like a dancer, graceful and quick.  
Fenris watched in amazement – an expression that was shared with Hawke and Varric – as Sylvestrie knocked one raider to the ground, jumped over his body twisting her body in mid-air to land behind the other raider and plunging her twin blades into his back.  
He fell to his knees before he even realized what had happened; the last thing he saw was Sylvestrie leaping over him, landing on the ground by his companion and killing him with one swift arc of her blade.  
She sat back on her heels, a small but triumphant smile crossing her lips. Shielding her eyes from the sunlight; she looked up at Fenris and let out a giggle at his expression; laughing harder when she saw it mirrored by the other two.

"Bloody flames, Sylvestrie, I knew you were good but….!" Varric stuttered.  
"Thank you," Sylvestrie smiled warmly at the dwarf before slanting her eyes to Fenris. With what could only be described as an impish grin, she pushed his chin up closing his mouth and winked at him before bending to retrieve her blade from the raiders' throat.  
She wiped the blade clean and sheathed them before darting off behind a cluster of rocks; returning with a handful of embrium for Hawke.  
Hawke nodded her thanks; still wide-eyed with surprise and the group turned down the pathway for home.

**.o.o.o.**

"And then, I shit you not, she springs up like a wildcat and twists her entire body round in mid-air! I'm telling you, she is really something to watch."

Varric was regaling the others with tales of Sylvestrie's fighting prowess, causing the young girl to blush furiously under the surprised gaze of the group gathered around the table in Varrics' suite in the Hanged Man.

"Stop, Varric, you'll have me red as tomatoes soon enough!" She giggled.  
"You're exaggerating, as usual, Varric," Isabela shook her head.  
"Usually I would agree, but in this case I can vouch for the…validity…of his tall tale. I was there," Fenris cast a quick, appreciative glance at Sylvestrie who dipped her head shyly, "you were quite the sight."  
"_Gratios, amica_," Sylvestrie replied quietly.  
Isabela looked around the table at the slightly confused looks the foreign language had caused, "I'll ask, then. What's with the odd language?"  
"It's Arcanum," Fenris said shortly, offering no other explanation.

Isabela nodded, happy enough with that and sauntered to the bar for another drink. Sylvestrie watched her go and looked at Fenris from under her lashes.  
"Should I not speak Arcanum around the others?" She asked, concerned.  
"I do not see a problem with it. It is…unusual for me to speak with someone so fluent in the language," he paused and looked sidelong at Sylvestrie, "but not badly so. I enjoy being able to use it; I was becoming…rusty."  
Sylvestrie smiled and nodded, "then I shall continue."

Isabela returned to the table, setting down her drink before coughing loudly to gain the attention of everyone there.  
Hawke looked up from a conversation with Aveline and rolled her eyes at the intrusion.

"What is it, Isabela?" Hawke asked with a slightly impatient sigh.  
"Corff has had some slavers pass through the last few days. I don't know if they're anything to do with our girl here," she nodded at Sylvestrie, "but it might be worth looking into."

Hawke cast a glance at Sylvestrie who had fallen silent, her skin paling and she rubbed her hands over her forearms in an attempt to rid herself of the chill that had settled over her.  
Fenris placed one of his hands over hers, his lips drawn together in a thin line and his olive eyes narrowed.

"I think we should seek out our slaver friends and send a message to whoever sent them," he muttered angrily.  
"Gideon," Sylvestrie said softly, "It has to be. He is one of the more…influential magisters. He has power over a lot of the slaver rings that operate across Tevinter."  
Fenris looked at Sylvestrie for a long moment, "he wasn't your first master, though, as I recall?"  
"No," she replied, "the letter I found said I had been sold to him from another magister. I can only assume that I was not good enough for him and I was sold on."  
Hawke shook her head in disgust, "don't worry Sylvestrie, we won't let you come to any harm, right everyone?"

A chorus of assent went up from the group and Sylvestrie ducked her head to hide the tears of gratitude.

"I have an idea that may help you feel more…secure," Fenris said.  
"What do you mean?"  
"Well you're clearly adept with your blades, as we saw earlier; but perhaps I could help hone those talents further? I have plenty of room in the mansion for us to practice and spar with each other. What do you say?"  
"I…Thank you, Fenris I think that would help a lot."  
"Then we shall start this evening."

Hawke hid a smile at the exchange and the faint pink glow that was settling on Sylvestrie's cheeks. She remembered feeling much the same when she first met Anders – girlish and awkward – thank the Maker that had passed. Well, almost passed.  
She looked up to find Fenris looking at her with an eyebrow arched and realized that she had clearly missed something important while she was daydreaming.

"Sorry Fenris, I was elsewhere for a moment!" She pulled herself together quickly.  
"We were discussing the best way to find the slavers that came through here." Isabela offered in a slightly bored tone.  
"Ah, I might be able to help there," Varric spoke up from where he was sitting, polishing Bianca gently, "I have a few contacts in the Undercity that owe me favors here and there. I can set them work gathering information for us."  
"Excellent!" Hawke nodded, "we will wait until you have something from your contacts and then work out the best plan to deal with these…people from there."  
"Good," Isabela stood and stretched, "now if we're done here, I have things to do." She smiled lasciviously and left Varric's suite in the direction of a tall, dark-haired man standing at the bar.

Aveline shook her head, "how that girl has not contracted several diseases is beyond me," she finished her drink and stood, gathering her shield before nodding to everyone and heading back to the Keep.  
Fenris stood not long after and held his hand out to Sylvestrie who took it, allowing him to pull her to her feet.

"We should start on that practice, I think," he said.  
"No time like the present," Sylvestrie countered with a small smile.

With a chuckle, Fenris waved to Hawke and Varric; leading Sylvestrie out of the Hanged Man and to his mansion.

**.o.o.o.**

The mansion was filled with the sounds of metal clashing against metal and Sylvestrie was nearing exhaustion. Fenris was a good teacher – patient and encouraging; but Maker the man never tired!

Sylvestrie shook her head to try and clear it and nearly missed Fenris' charging attack. At the last minute she jumped to one side, rolling neatly to a crouching position with her body weight on the tip of her toes. Fenris turned and swung his sword in a wide arc; watching in amazement as she jumped high above the blade, twisting cat-like in mid-air to land behind him. He felt something dig against his back and dropped his sword, raising his hands in surrender.

"Hm…Perhaps it is I that needs teaching," he murmured, "that was impressive, indeed!"  
"Thank you," Sylvestrie smiled breathlessly up at him, "but I believe your strength and stamina is more impressive than my quick footwork!"

She was rewarded with something of a shy laugh, which he attempted (unsuccessfully) to hide behind a sudden need to clear his throat.  
Sylvestrie smiled, busying herself with cleaning one of her blades. Fenris' shyness was something she found refreshing and – not that she would dare voice this to him – adorable. She kept her eyes on the blade knowing that if she looked up at that moment those unbelievable olive green eyes would make her blurt out the first daft thing that popped into her mind.

Fenris watched her polish her blade, her entire being seemingly focused on that one thing. Inwardly he smiled; he found her intriguing and her slightly playful nature most definitely kept him on his toes. Her voice was clear with a lilting tone, the way her lips curled in a smile or how she tilted her head just so when she was concentrating…and when she laughed…However, it was her eyes that he found he could not stop stealing glances at – that pale lilac-silver reminded him of something but the moment he thought of it, it slipped away into a far corner of his mind.

Sylvestrie looked up at him at the same time as he cast his eyes towards her. Olive and lilac locked onto each other and held fast in a steady, if not slightly nervous gaze. Fenris crouched in front of her and without realizing what he was doing, touched his gauntleted fingertips to her cheek. She shivered as the cool metal of his armor came into contact with her skin and before she had chance to stop herself, she had touched her own fingertips to his cheek; cupping his face in her hands.  
For a moment, time stood perfectly still between them both; their breath shallow, their heartbeat slow as something unknown pulsed throughout the room.

Fenris leaned forward and touched his forehead to Sylvestrie's in much the same way as he had done the night of the ball at the Keep.  
She closed her eyes, tilting her head towards his; her fingertips slowly ghosting over his cheek as his wound gently through her hair.  
Silence stretched between them, tinged with an air of uncertainty.  
Sylvestrie caught her bottom lip between her teeth, a gesture that was habit whenever nerves got the better of her; Fenris tilted her head closer to his and slowly brushed his lips over hers.  
The feeling of time slowing broke at that moment, the silence giving way to the near deafening sounds of both hearts pounding in unison.  
Their lips met, gently at first and then again with an almost possessive force and an undeniable need for the moment to stretch on as time had done just moments ago.  
Flames from the candles nearby sparked, flickered and died and time stood still once more.


	7. Chapter 7

**~authors note~**  
**BioWare own the characters and settings (except Sylvestrie, she's all mine!) I am just playing with them all for a while.**  
**.o.o.o.**

Varric smiled to himself as he walked into his suite at the notorious Hanged Man tavern in Lowtown. He had successfully swindled a few of the Hightown nobles out of a lot of money and he was happy enough with his spoils.  
The door to his suite swung inwards and he casually threw the bulging coin purse onto the large wooden table that took over one corner of his living space; glad to find that Corff had left a tankard of cold ale waiting for him.

"Looks like you had a good day," a slightly accented female voice came from the shadows, making him jump until he realized who it was.  
"Great Ancestors Mara, what in a nugs name are you doing skulking around in my suite?"

A tall Elven woman stepped into the flickering lamplight; huge gray eyes studying Varric.  
"Can I not visit an old friend for no reason?"  
"Most people can, yes. You, however… No."

Varric sat at the head of the table, fingers steepling under his chin as he studied Mara. She blinked slowly, serious slate gray eyes meeting his warm amber ones. For a moment, neither spoke; choosing instead to study each other like tigers sizing up an opponent.  
Varric cleared his throat, breaking the tense silence and Mara arched an eyebrow.

"You never did like silence, Varric," Mara smiled at him with a shake of her head.  
"Not when the silence has you at the other end of it," Varric leaned back, propping his feet on the edge of the table, "not to be rude and all, but what do you want?"  
"Who says I want anything?"  
"The fact that you're here says you want something," the Dwarf looked at his visitor, "so please feel free to get to the point any time now."  
"Fine," Mara sighed softly, "I received a message last night with some information that I think you will find more than helpful, given what you've been asking about lately."  
"Details, Mara," Varric said impatiently, waving his hand.

Mara took out an envelope and tossed it across the table to Varric; who read the contents slowly:

_**Mara, **_  
_**It has come to my attention that there has been increased slaver activity along the Wounded Coast of late.**_  
_**A group of slavers that bear the insignia of Tevinter has taken a temporary dwelling in a cave on the southernmost tip of the coast and it is my belief that these men are the ones you were inquiring about.**_  
_**I think it advisable to send this information along to somebody who will know how best to deal with it, don't you?**_  
_**Act swiftly – they will not tarry in these caves long.**_

Varric lowered the letter, pursing his lips in thought before nodding decisively, "thank you, Mara, I appreciate you bringing this to me.  
"I assume you will take care of this situation?"  
"Yes, I'll speak to the relevant people and set out for the caves as soon as possible."

Mara nodded and turned to leave the suite, stopping in the doorway and looking over her shoulder; gray eyes fixed on Varric with an expression he couldn't quite figure out.  
"Good luck, old friend," she murmured and left without a backwards glance.

Varric rolled his shoulders to ease the sudden tension that had knotted his muscles at Maras odd departure and, re-reading the letter, sent word to Hawke to gather Fenris as soon as possible.


	8. Chapter 8

**~authors note~**  
**BioWare own the characters and settings (except Sylvestrie, she's all mine!) I am just playing with them all for a while.**  
**.o.o.o.**

**EIGHT.**

The sound was rather annoying. In fact, it was extremely annoying and Fenris wanted to slam whoever was making said sound into a wall.  
He was, however, far too comfortable to move and so the sound continued.  
Something shifted and Fenris opened one eye to see a pair of beautiful bright eyes peer out from behind a curtain of hair that shone with a deep purple hue. He smiled lazily, brushing the hair away from Sylvestrie's face.  
The sound continued, becoming more and more insistent.

"Good morning," a sleep fogged soft voice greeted Fenris, "what in the name of all that is holy is that noise?"  
"Good morning yourself," he replied, "I don't know, but whoever is making it will find themselves on the wrong side of my tongue...Or my sword."

Grumbling, Fenris moved to the window to find the source of the annoying noise. He looked down at the courtyard and spotted the familiar figure of Hawke gathering small pebbles to throw up at the window.  
He let out a low growl and opened the window with a force that not only startled Sylvestrie but made Hawke jump.

"_Venhedis_, woman, WHAT?!" He shouted down to her.

Hawke looked up, noting his bare shoulders and smirked, "let me in, Fenris, we need to talk!"  
"Can it not wait for later, Hawke?" He called back, finding new annoyance as she shook her head.

He closed with window and turned to Sylvestrie who was dressed in a faded black tunic that Fenris had given her to sleep in, sitting with her legs curled under her; eyes half closed.

"I…Apparently this cannot wait. I'm sorry."  
"Go, Fenris. I'll join you in a moment," Sylvestrie smiled warmly and he could not help but return the gesture.

He bent at the waist, brushed her hair back and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead.

**.o.o.o.**

Fenris and Hawke were sipping hot spiced tea from large cracked earthenware mugs when Sylvestrie joined them.  
Hawke looked up and grinned, taking in her slightly tousled hair and the faded black tunic that was clearly several sizes too large for her.  
Sylvestrie flushed and picked up the last mug, smiling shyly at Fenris when he vacated the chair she had begun to favor so she could sit.

"What's wrong, Hawke?" Fenris asked, cutting any preamble.  
"One of Varrics contacts came through – the slavers are holed up in some cave on the Wounded Coast."  
Fenris uttered a curse that made Sylvestrie gasp in shock, "Fenris! You can't say that in polite company!"  
"Hawke is not polite," Fenris arched an eyebrow and Hawke responded with a gesture that was very unladylike.  
"I was planning on making an early start to the Wounded Coast," Hawke said, a business-like tone creeping back into her voice, "I thought that if we managed to make it there in good time this evening we could camp there and give our slaver friends a friendly wake up call. What do you think?"  
Fenris nodded, "I shall meet you at the Hanged Man later – I assume that Varric and your mage are coming?"  
"Varric is, _Anders_ cannot – he has a very sick newborn in his clinic to tend to. I thought of taking Merrill, but she's been feeling unwell; Aveline is busy with the guards and Isabela is busy with…well, you know Isabela."  
Fenris groaned and Sylvestrie piped up from behind him, "I can come along if it helps. If the slavers are there for me then I'd like to at least watch them get…disbanded…"  
"NO!" Fenris near shouted, making both women jump slightly.  
"And why not?!" Sylvestrie asked, placing her hands on her hips.  
"It is too great a danger for you, _amica_."

She set her face to its most determined look and held his gaze, "Fenris, please. Let me join you – if the slavers are here for me then I should be there to find out where Gideon is for myself. If they're not, then I get to help you take down a group that should be slowly tortured, drenched in the sweetest honey and left for wild animals to feast upon."  
Hawke burst out laughing, "I think that's fair, Fenris. Besides, we know that Sylvestrie can look after herself should a fight ensue."  
Fenris looked from one woman to the other and groaned, "_tu mei dicent mulieres finem_!"  
Sylvestrie giggled and winked at Hawke, "I think we got our way!"  
"I am sorely outnumbered here," Fenris grumbled, "this is entirely unfair!"  
Hawke laughed, "Well that's settled then. Sylvestrie comes with us."

Fenris pretended to grumble but Sylvestrie caught his eye and poked the tip of her tongue at him which made him turn away to mask his smile.  
Hawke shook her head and made arrangements for them to meet at the Hanged Man that evening so they could set off for the Wounded Coast.

**.o.o.o.**

The journey to the Wounded Coast was relatively easy, which everyone was thankful for and they reached a small area near enough to the cave where they could set camp for the night.  
Sylvestrie volunteered to collect some firewood and faded into the shadows as she left camp. Fenris shook his head, still a little amazed at her aptitude for stealth.

"So, you and Sylvestrie…?" The voice behind him made him start and he turned to see Hawke grinning wickedly at him.  
"What about us?" He sighed, suddenly wishing for raiders or an army of skeletal archers to attack the party so Hawke would get distracted and forget the conversation.  
"I assume you worked out the feelings you were so panicked over?"  
"I…I'm sorry?"  
"Well generally speaking, most people don't share a bed unless there is something more than friendship between them."  
"Unless you are Isabela," Fenris quipped, trying to make light of the topic.

Hawke arched an eyebrow and smirked at his response; then fixed him with a look that said the conversation would not end until he had answered her question. Fenris sighed again and sat down in front of the tent he had been putting up, motioning for Hawke to sit with him.

"Nothing happened between us."  
"Right, you just accidentally shared the bed with her…." Hawke shook her head.  
"Well…alright, something happened; but not what you have assumed."  
"So…?" Hawke prompted, causing Fenris to roll his eyes.  
"It seems…disrespectful to speak of it without Sylvestrie present. For all I know, she does not wish it to be known."  
"Understood," Hawke smiled warmly at him and got up to leave, turning back once to say; "you do deserve to be happy, you know."

Fenris furrowed his brow as Hawke left. If he was honest with himself, he did not know how to define what had happened the night before. All he knew was that he cared deeply for Sylvestrie and was utterly grateful to the stroke of luck that had brought her into his life.  
He had vowed to himself that he would be her protector, her guardian until she commanded otherwise, although he knew that she was more than capable of taking care of herself. And yet…something behind her skill with dual blades, sweet smile and carefree manner cried out to him. It was as though he knew her…had known her his entire life; which, as he well knew, was impossible due to his memories vanishing into white hot agony as lyrium burned into his skin.  
Despite that, he still had that feeling of familiarity whenever he was around Sylvestrie. The urge to stand closer to her than anyone else; the strange need he felt to tuck the errant strands of her hair back from her face and the way that he wanted to brush her hand with his while they were with the others startled him.  
This was definitely new territory for him and he felt like a child out of his depth in an unknown ocean.

"Fenris?" Sylvestrie's soft voice broke into his thoughts, "I made us all something to eat if you are hungry?"  
Fenris looked up and nodded, following her to the small fire that Hawke and Varric were sat by. Sylvestrie handed him a plate with what looked like stew on it and a large chunk of bread; he smiled his thanks and sat near Sylvestrie to eat.

"This is possibly the most delicious thing I've eaten," Varric groaned, patting his stomach.  
"Mmph," Fenris tried speaking around a mouthful of stew-dipped bread, causing Sylvestrie to chuckle.  
"I'm glad you like it, Alis taught me how to cook basic meals. This was the first thing I made that didn't burn a hole in the pans. The plates however…"

Fenris and Hawke looked down at their plates in consternation; while Varric who had long since finished his stew looked at his stomach in alarm.

Sylvestrie burst out laughing, "oh your faces – priceless! I was joking, I promise!"

Varric was the first to laugh, shaking his head and picking up his plate to add a second helping of the stew and snagging the last piece of bread.  
"So what's in this, anyway?" He asked, settling back down to eat.  
"Some root vegetables, potatoes and bronto meat."  
"I'm sorry…what meat?"  
"Bronto. Edwina had some left over from making the meals for the Hanged Man so I gave her some coin for it and made this."  
"But I've had bronto meat before and it's the toughest thing I've ever eaten," Varric looked mildly astonished.  
"Agreed," Fenris mumbled around another mouthful, "my experience was rather like chewing on old leather armor."

Sylvestrie smiled to herself and sat cross-legged on a large log next to Fenris. He slanted his eyes towards her; a brief smile crossed his lips as he watched her twirl a strand of hair around her finger, noticing that she had changed from the tunic she had been wearing and into the faded black one she had worn the morning before. Hawke looked up and caught his attention with a sly smile and a wink. He rolled his eyes in return, turning his attention to the ever dwindling fire.

Varric picked up Bianca, caressing her frame gently and crooning a soft melody to her as he nodded to the two ladies before disappearing into the small tent he had set up for himself.

Hawke stood, rubbing her arms gently before standing, "it's getting colder, I think. We should all get some rest; it may be a busy day for us tomorrow if the slavers are still in their hideout."  
With that, she left the fire and crawled into her tent, taking her pack with her, leaving Fenris and Sylvestrie by the fire.  
Sylvestrie was watching the flames twist and turn amongst the branches and pieces of driftwood; her eyes half-closed. A slender hand drifted into her vision and she looked up to find Fenris smiling down at her.

"You were falling asleep, _fele_," he pulled her to her feet, one hand resting on the small of her back; "I have just realized that you do not have anything to sleep on. I should have made sure of that before we left."  
"I will be honest; I did not think of it myself. I'm used to snatching sleep where I can. The past few nights in a proper bed have been wonderful, though."  
"Well, I am more than happy to share my tent, if you do not mind being in slightly close quarters?"  
Sylvestrie's cheeks flushed slightly, her eyes lowered. Slowly she raised them, looking at Fenris from under her lashes, "I do not think I would mind that…at all."  
Fenris' mind flashed briefly to their evening spent in the same bed and a small smile crossed his lips, "perhaps this time our awakening will be slightly less intrusive."  
"Oh I don't know, _tutella_, there are a lot of rocks here. If anything, it will be less gentle."

Fenris chuckled, shaking his head while trying to recall what _tutella_ meant. He held open the tent flaps, allowing Sylvestrie to crawl through.  
A small lantern was lit in one corner, casting a soft golden glow over everything, leaving the shadows somehow even darker.  
Sylvestrie sat cross legged, tugging the soft faded tunic over her bare knees; the light catching in her eyes, making them appear brighter and more silvery than usual.

"It means guardian by the way," she said softly, "I could see you trying to work it out."  
"Ah, thank you. It sounded familiar and yet I could not place it," he set the bedroll on the ground, spreading it out so that they would both be able to sleep on it.

He waited for Sylvestrie to settle herself before he stretched out next to her, his hands folded over his stomach. She curled up on her side, internally debating shifting a little closer to him.

"May I ask…? What does _fele_ mean? I am sure I've heard the word before but when I try to think on it, the thought just slips away from me."  
Fenris shifted to his side, tucking a few strands of her hair away from her face with a gentle smile, "it means _wildcat_."  
Sylvestrie looked up, confusion in her eyes.

"When I first met you, I was instantly reminded of something," Fenris chuckled, moving his fingers from her hair and catching her hand instead, "because of your eyes – they're beautiful but they have the look of being almost feline. And your mannerisms - you move quickly, but cautiously and you are inquisitive without being reckless. And sometimes you have a way of looking at me with your head tilted that reminds me of something, yet I cannot place what."  
Sylvestrie smiled, squeezing his hand gently, "you know, you remind me of a wolf."  
"Hm…Danarious gave me my name. It means _"little wolf"_, but I am so accustomed to being called Fenris now that I never use my real name anymore."  
"What was it?" Sylvestrie asked, stroking his palm with her thumb.

Fenris opened his mouth to answer when something came forward in his mind, a memory so strong it felt as though he was living it.

**-a young man with a face far too old for his years, startling white hair and deep olive green eyes is standing in a quiet corner of an expansive, meticulously kept garden. Brilliant, bright colored birds flit in the trees above him trilling songs to each other; but it is something else entirely that has his attention. A wild cat with thick, dark fur is watching him, curiosity tilting its head, bright silvery eyes taking in everything; every detail. He smiles, takes a step forward slowly and then gently lowers himself to sit cross-legged on the deep green grass. The cat pads forward, slowly, carefully; stopping every few steps to watch the man with guarded eyes. He reaches then man and for a moment, neither moves, each studying the other. The cat moves first, taking tentative yet graceful steps towards the man, stopping in front of his crossed knees; head tilted to one side, bright eyes always watching curiously. The man inclines his head, as if acknowledging the presence of this solitary creature. The cat lowers its head as if bowing in return and something passes between them – an unspoken message, something secret and important. It is then that the man notices that the cat is carrying something in its mouth – something silver; that catches the sunlight, sparkling and drawing him in. The man slowly holds out his hand with his head bowed, the cat flinches momentarily and he withdraws his hand, holding it palm up so that the cat can see he means no harm; a sneering voice in the back of his mind chiding him (why would you think that such a beautiful creature would want you to touch it? Pathetic!) The cat moves forward, brave now and quickly licks the man's palm; surprising him. The man finds that it does not cause any pain to have this contact as it would with a humans touch. The cat lays on the lush grass, placing his head onto the man's lap, its luminous eyes trained on his olive green ones. For a moment, the man closes his eyes, allowing his fingers to rest on the cats back, stroking the fur gently. Something brushes against his fingertips and as he opens his eyes he sees a flash from another part of the garden, like a reflection of sun on glass (but there is nothing made of glass on that part of the garden, you know that) and the cat has vanished; leaving naught but the object from its mouth in his palm. He looks closer at it and finds that it is a silver disc engraved with a paw print on a slender silver chain. Something about it makes him smile wistfully. A noise makes him look up – a giggle, soft laughter, carefree and happy – and he feels a pang of sad nostalgia in his chest. Between the large trees that run around the perimeter of the garden he sees a small, slender girl running along the pathway; her feet making hardly any noise at all. She stops near the tree that he is sitting against and for a moment he feels as though she is looking right at him. She tilts her head, hearing something he cannot and then runs again; leaving him alone in a large meticulously kept garden with brilliant, bright colored birds flitting in the trees above him trilling songs to each other-**

Fenris and Sylvestrie blinked, faces inches from each other; eyes widened in shock. They could hear each others' hearts beating, pulses racing, breaths' fast and shallow.

"Wh…what was that?" Sylvestrie asked, her voice shaking.  
"I don't know, I…it was me, I think…but I don't…" Fenris shivered, suddenly chilled and wishing for a blanket or something to cover himself with to stop the chill seeping deeper into his body.

Sylvestrie moved closer to him, cold creeping over her as well and wrapped a slender arm around his waist. He froze for a moment and his eyes met hers, seeing nothing but concern and sincerity. Slowly he moved onto his back, wrapping both arms around her and pulling her towards him, tucking her head under his chin.  
For a long moment they didn't speak.  
"That…that's never happened before," Fenris whispered, his voice low and gravelly.  
"Did you lose all of your memories, Fenris?"  
"Yes. I mean…I've had flashes before but it's just random images that vanish as fast as they appear. The only tangible memory I've had was when I met my sister and that was only brief – a glimpse into my childhood that would have been better hidden."  
"What do you mean?" Sylvestrie tilted her head up to look at him.  
"When I saw her, I remembered us as children, playing while our Mother worked for a master. It just raised questions for me – was I born into slavery? And now my sister is dead, I have no answers."  
"She's…dead? I'm…so sorry, Fenris…"  
"Don't be. I killed her." Fenris stated with a blunt honesty.

Sylvestrie fell silent, unsure of what to say or how to react. She stayed silent, just tightening her arm around Fenris. He shifted, smoothing her hair gently before tilting her face up to his and brushing a kiss over her forehead.  
Sylvestrie sighed softly, concerned and confused about what had happened.

"Perhaps it was something that won't happen again," she murmured.  
"Perhaps," Fenris said quietly, thoughtfully, "we should rest, tomorrow may prove to be a long day for us."  
"You're right," she propped herself up on an elbow and smoothed a lock of hair off of his face before pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek, "goodnight, Fenris, rest well."  
"_Somnus bene, mea fele_," Fenris smiled at her and held her gently to him.

**.o.o.o.**

The cave was too dark, too cold and far too confining. The group had run into a few spiders that were a lot larger than they really had any right to be; but beyond that had made it through the narrow tunnels without incident.  
They had found themselves following a tunnel that twisted and turned to the point where they felt almost dizzied and were sure they were back at the start of the cave. Hawke had turned to go back; but Sylvestrie held a hand up, motioning for everyone to be silent.

"I can hear something," she whispered, "stay here, I'll be back."  
"Wait," Fenris hissed, "you can't go on your own, it's too..."  
Sylvestrie grinned and then vanished into the shadows, causing Varric to suppress a laugh. Hawke smiled, shaking her head and Fenris muttered something under his breath.

"She's far too good at that," Varric muttered, "she's like a bloody shadow."  
"Who is?" Sylvestrie whispered in his left ear, causing him to jump.  
"Great Ancestors...! Don't do that to me, I'm far too handsome to die this young."

Sylvestrie giggled, stifling the noise with her hand, before motioning the others to come closer to her.

"Right," she said in hushed tones, "I managed to scout down this pathway; there's a small opening that we can crawl through and it opens out into the main chamber of the cave. Our friends are in there, about a dozen – give or take – and armed; but not well."  
"So what do we do?" Varric looked to Hawke who pursed her lips in thought.  
"I suggest a sneak attack. We don't need them all alive; just one or two so we can find out where and who they've come from. Either way, they'll all meet the Maker by the end of it."

Fenris nodded in agreement; slanting his eyes at Sylvestrie. Her eyes were bright; her skin slightly flushed and her breathing quicker than usual. He shifted, resting a hand on the small of her back, hoping to calm her a little.  
She quirked her lips in a smile and inclined her head at him.  
Hawke cleared her throat quietly, "Sylvestrie, how far in can you stealth?"  
"If I stay as flat to the walls as possible, I'd say I could reach the far side without being noticed. But that depends on what protections they have in place; if they have anything then it would detect me instantly and..." she trailed off, paling slightly.  
"That's where I come in handy," Hawke smiled and opened a hand, palm facing up.

A pale blue glow rose from her palm, twisting and turning before settling into an oval shape; hovering above her hand. It deepened in color, faded then disappeared.

"They're careless. As far as I can detect there's no magical defences here so you would be relatively unseen."  
"If they've any traps set up I'll find 'em a mile off," Varric added.  
"Excellent," Hawke smiled, "right – here's the plan. Sylvestrie go in as far as you can under stealth; Varric will follow you and Fenris after that. I'll bring up the rear. Once we're all through the doorway, I'll cast something to slow them all down; Varric I'll need to rain as many arrows down on them as Bianca can handle and Fenris..."  
"Go in, sword swinging and cut them down?"  
"Absolutely," Hawke nodded, "Sylvestrie, I'll need you to attack from the shadows; dart around, keep them confused and try to stay out of harm's way – you may be the reason that they're here so we don't want to hand you over on a silver platter."

Sylvestrie nodded and they stood; grim determination set in each of their faces. Sylvestrie turned to the others and found that small bubbles of panic were popping in her chest.  
Hawke and Varric were quietly discussing the plan of attack, but Fenris who had been leaning against the wall with his eyes closed had noticed Sylvestrie's sudden discomfort. He saw the slight tremble in her hands, her lips parted just a little where she needed more air and her eyes dark and wider than usual.  
He stepped into her field of vision and tipped her chin up. Her eyes met his, dazed and anxious and he tilted his head, eyes concerned and asking questions without words – _are you alright?_  
Sylvestrie's eyes darted this way and that, trying to focus as she struggled to stop the fast-building anxiety. She locked eyes with Fenris and her lips quivered, fingers trembling – _no...no I'm not...I'm scared._  
Fenris brushed a thumb over her lips and then unclasped something from around his neck before placing it around hers; his fingertips ghosting over her neck and shoulders, his eyes holding hers – _don't worry, fele, I'm at your side._  
Sylvestrie looked down, blinking rapidly to rid her eyes of the hazy panic that had blurred over them. Around her neck hung a silver pendant – a disc engraved with a paw print. She snapped her eyes up to look at Fenris, her confusion clear – _I don't understand?_  
A smile quirked the corner of his mouth as he clasped her hands gently, rubbing his thumbs over the back of her hands in slow circles; one eyebrow lifting – _keep it, that way I'll be with you._  
She understood and in a heartbeat her panic dissipated, a light-hearted feeling chasing away the dark clouds of anxiety and worry that settled over her. She raised her eyes to look into his; pale lilac-silver to deep olive green and she smiled, relieved –_what would I do without you?_  
A low, quiet chuckle; eyes dancing and lips quirking in that half-smile that made her heat skip just ever so briefly – _you will never find out._  
Finding strength from seemingly nowhere, Sylvestrie held the pendant lightly and turned to Hawke and Varric who had been watching the silent exchange with confusion and faint amusement on their faces.

"I'm ready," Sylvestrie said softly and with one last look at Fenris, a smile crossing her lips and his; she vanished into the shadows.

**.o.o.o.**

The slavers had them outnumbered. Sylvestrie had counted a half dozen; but more poured into the chamber from the small winding passages and they were surrounded.  
Two of them had forced Sylvestrie to her knees, removing her dual blades and throwing them to the floor with careless indifference. From behind her, she heard Fenris curse as a swing of his blade narrowly missed its mark; she could hear the twang of Bianca from the shadows and smell the crackling electric of Hawke as she cast spell after spell.  
Sylvestrie looked up at the two men, trying desperately to find a way out. They had been arrogant enough to think that if they towered over her she would be intimidated into being docile enough to warrant them not tying her up.  
One of the men leered at her, nudging the other and inclining his head to one of the ante-chambers; his comrade nodding.  
The first grabbed her by the elbow, jerking her up off of the floor and dragging her away from the main chamber.

"Hawke!" Fenris shouted over noise of the fight, "They've taken Sylvestrie!"

Hawke looked around, narrowly missing an axe blade swinging towards her. She knocked the axe wielder back with a quickly cast Mind Blast and ran towards the ante-chamber. As she reached the opening, she was knocked to her back by a flash of bright white light. Her head cracked against the hard dirt floor, her vision blurred and pain lanced through her head. Fenris tore through two slavers and ran to help Hawke.

"What happened?" He asked.  
"I don't know," Hawke pressed a hand to her head, wincing; "something in there knocked me down."

Fenris picked Hawke up, brushing dirt off her back and cast a glance at the ante-chamber. A shout from the shadows made him spin round to see three more men advancing on him and Hawke. He could hear the clicking of Bianca as Varric took aim; but before he could shoot a blur of black flew gracefully through the air; knocking down two of the men.  
Fenris swung his blade at the one man left standing and cleaved his head clean away from his body; sensing the healing magic Hawke was casting on herself, him and Varric.  
The blur took shape and all Fenris could do was stare in something approaching shock.  
A lithe, muscular black cat was pinning the last two men down; claws raking through the belly of one, teeth tearing at the throat of another. The smell of fear and blood tainted the air as the cat clamped its jaws around one slavers neck and bit down hard. A sickening cracking sound snapped through the air, making Hawke jump. The cat, unbothered by the noise, turned its attention to the man still gasping for air.  
A slash of claws and a garbled scream and the man was open at the chest, blood pooling around him; bones, tissue and heart exposed.  
The cat huffed out a breath, looking at the stunned faces of Hawke, Fenris and Varric with its head tilted as if to say _would you mind if I ate first?_

"Where did it come from?" Varric asked, quietly.  
"The ante-chamber over there," Hawke pointed, "where two slavers took…"

She was cut off as Fenris shouted Sylvestrie's name; running into the ante-chamber. He returned seconds later, confusion writ large on his face.

"She's not there. And the slavers…Dead, ripped apart."  
"Maybe the cat uses this cave as its home?" Hawke shrugged a shoulder.  
"But where's Sylvestrie?" Fenris asked, his voice the only thing betraying his emotions.

The cat stopped eating and looked up at Fenris, its eyes big, bright and curious; its head tilted as it studied him.  
Fenris bent down, looking at the cat with his own curiosity. The cat was panting, its tongue lolling out of its mouth as Fenris slowly sat down cross-legged on the ground.  
For a moment there was nothing but silence as cat and elf studied each other.  
Fenris looked into its eyes; a beautiful lilac-silver color, clear and bright. The more he looked, the more he felt as though he had seen the cat before.  
The cat let out a sigh of breath and nudged Fenris' hand with its nose. Fenris chuckled quietly, reaching a hand out and running his fingers through the thick black fur which resulted in the cat closing its eyes while its tail swished happily from side to side.

"I think you found a friend, Fenris," Hawke said with a small smile.

Fenris looked up at Hawke and then back to the cat that was busily cleaning its front paws, its fur catching the light from the lanterns strewn around the chamber and shining with a deep purple hue.  
Fenris let out an almost strangled cry and the cat turned back to him, head tilted as he stretched out his hand.  
The cat gently licked his palm as if comforting him and Fenris caught sight of something glinting in the half-light from the torches scattered around the chamber.  
He looked deeply into the cat's eyes, finding lilac-silver staring back at him; confident and challenging.

Fenris ran his fingers through its fur, smiling and shaking his head, "Why didn't you tell me?"  
"Fenris, what do you mean?" Hawke asked.

Fenris opened his mouth to answer, a whirring sound cutting him off. He turned to see where the sound had come from and time seemed to slow as an arrow flew gracefully through the air, embedding itself in the right side of the cat.

Lyrium flaring, Fenris raced to where the arrow had come from, shouting to Hawke to tend to the cat who had crumpled to the ground with a soft whine.  
Fenris reached the rickety wooden landing and lunged for the man that had fired the arrow; all too late as he was enveloped in smoke and faded from view; his deep raspy cackle the only thing that remained.

Reaching the cat, Fenris could see it was in pain and he sank to his knees; softly petting its head. It opened its eyes, focusing on Fenris and whined again; before letting out a sudden howl of pain.  
Fenris and Hawke backed away slightly and a thin, weak white glow spread over the cat. Its legs lengthened, paws stretched and elongated and its head and muzzle started to change.  
Slowly, in what looked like an agonizing process, the cat morphed, twisted and changed until they were faced with Sylvestrie lying curled on the hard dirt floor.  
Her eyes opened slowly, her breath coming in short gasps as a new pain tore through her. The arrow had struck her right side and it became clear that it had been coated in a toxic substance.  
Fenris knelt by her side and carefully removed the arrow, handing it to Hawke who wrapped it in a piece of cloth and placed it in her pack.  
He lifted her tunic gently, the wound the arrow had left was raw, puckered and a dark angry red. Thin blue lines snaked away from it, spreading over her body.  
Her skin was cold, clammy and her breath and heartbeat were painfully slow.

Fenris picked her up, cradling her, "hang on, _fele_, please…hang on."

**.o.o.o.**

Translations  
_tu mei dicent mulieres finem_ – you women will be the end of me  
_Somnus bene_ – sleep well


	9. Chapter 9

**~authors note~**  
**BioWare own the characters and settings (except Sylvestrie, she's all mine!) I am just playing with them all for a while.**  
**I would also like to thank everyone who has followed this story, especially Musicalrain for her really lovely reviews!**  
**.o.o.o.**

**NINE.**

The Darktown clinic had been steadily busy all day; the sickly baby that had dominated most of Anders' time was finally sleeping peacefully. Anders had been taking a much needed break, resting on the cot he kept for himself in the back room.  
He heard the door slam open, someone shouting his name and he grumbled wondering what the commotion was about.  
He picked up his staff and headed into his clinic, his initial irritation fading when he saw the panic on the face of his wife, which was echoed on the faces of the others.  
Fenris was carrying the limp body of Sylvestrie, who had thin lines winding over her entire body. Fenris placed her gently onto a cot and Anders bent to inspect her and Hawke described what happened from the moment they entered the chamber to the moment where the wildcat transformed into Sylvestrie.  
She handed him the arrow and he set it to one side to look at later.

He inspected the wound, declared the arrow to have been poison coated and began to administer healing.  
After what felt like days to Fenris, the mage straightened and shook his head slowly.

"Whatever this poison is, it's resisting my healing," he said, puzzled, "Love, would you take the arrow to Tomwise and see if he can tell what type of poison it is?"

Hawke nodded and ran from the clinic while Fenris paced in front of the doors waiting for her return.  
Moments later, she came back with a strange look on her face.

"Well?" Fenris demanded.  
"I…Well…" Hawke looked everywhere but at Fenris; her eyes falling on the prone body of Sylvestrie, "Tomwise says that it's a rare poison; one that's been not only outlawed and banned but…"  
"Hawke. Tell me. Now," Fenris ground out, his patience wearing thinner by the minute.  
Hawke shifted nervously from foot to foot, looking up at Fenris, "Its Serpents Kiss."

The clinic fell silent. Anders clapped a hand to his mouth, the color drained from Fenris' face and Varric shook his head slowly.

"Even **I** know that carrying Serpents Kiss is punishable by death," the dwarf muttered, "who in Thedas would carry it, let alone administer it by arrow?"  
"Such things do not matter to those as powerful as the magisters," Fenris growled, "is it curable?"

Anders looked at the wound, the blue lines snaking over Sylvestrie's skin and he bit his lip, unsure how to answer; "It probably is, but I have no experience in doing so," Anders said, quietly, "I can look through my books to see if there's any information in them."  
"Do so. Immediately," Fenris barked; taking a seat next to the cot Sylvestrie was lying on and taking one of her hands in both of his, "she cannot die. Understood?"

Anders nodded and began searching through his books for anything that would help. After a while Varric excused himself to returned to the Hanged Man; saying he may be able to find help via his contacts there and Anders asked Hawke to find Merrill.  
Hawke nodded and left, glancing at Fenris over her shoulder as she walked out.  
He was clasping one of Sylvestrie's hands still and his head was bowed, his lips near her ear as he whispered to her.  
Hawke looked away, feeling as though she had somehow intruded on a private moment and left to seek out Merrill.

**.o.o.o.**

"I can help, I think," Merrill said softly, "but none of you will like how it has to be done."

She turned to face Hawke, Anders and Fenris; all of whom had their arms folded in a weary, guarded expression.

"I assume you mean you would have to use blood magic?" Hawke asked.  
"Well…yes. Kind of," Merrill's expression changed, her eyes darting about, her lips drawn in a thin line.  
"What do you mean kind of?" Fenris demanded, eyes flashing with half-hearted anger.  
Merrill took a few steps backwards, knowing full well what befell those on the wrong side of Fenris' temper, "well, Serpents Kiss is so strong that no magic alone can cure it. Blood magic would be able to alleviate the pain and bring her back to consciousness but not for long. Eventually she would…well…"  
"Die?" Hawke whispered, paling when Merrill simply nodded.  
"So if no magic can cure the poison…" Anders began, standing with an arm wrapped around his wife's shoulders.

Merrill reached forward and took Fenris' gauntleted hand, bringing him to the cot where Sylvestrie lay. Fenris glared at the unwanted contact and growled low in his throat when Merrill gestured for him to remove the gauntlet. He did so after a moment and arched an eyebrow at the young mage. She took his hand; being careful to not touch his markings anymore than was needed, placing the markings on the palm of his hand over the marking on Sylvestrie's wrist. Instantly the lyrium and avenite flared in unison and the blue lines winding through her skin faded; coming back as Fenris' hand moved away.

"I would need a lot of lyrium to perform this kind of healing," Merrill explained, "and bottled wouldn't help; it needs to be raw, untainted. Like the type that Fenris has running through him. It amplifies my magic and makes it stronger but there's another effect. Somehow, their markings bind together and the lyrium and avenite become one; in the tales my people tell that means only one thing – Sylvestrie is Fenris' _sa'lath_."  
"What does that mean?" Fenris asked, his voice barely suppressing a tremor.  
Merrill looked at him and smiled, sadly her eyes shining, "it means she is the one you were meant to love."

Fenris turned to look at Sylvestrie; his jaw tightening as he struggled to keep his emotions in check. Could it be possible or was Merrill just clutching at a silly folk tale from her clan? He watched Sylvestrie as her chest rose and fell slowly in shallow breaths and his own chest felt hollow; a band constricting his heart and a lump in his throat that refused to go. The very thought of Sylvestrie succumbing to the poison, the thought that he may never see her again; hear her lilting voice or the laugh that never failed to tug his lips in a smile…He shook his head and turned to face his friends.

"Do it. Whatever you need to do; whatever you need from me. Do it."

Merrill nodded and set off for her home to gather what she needed while Fenris sat by Sylvestrie, her hand in his while he murmured in her ear.  
When Merrill returned, she positioned Fenris on the cot with his back to the wall; then Sylvestrie in front of him between his legs. His hands grasped her wrists lightly, watching the lyrium and avenite flare together; bright blue and deep red fading into a smoky purple glow around their hands.

"Right. I need you to be asleep for this; as it will be painful so Anders is going to give you something to drink and you'll just sleep through the whole process."

Fenris nodded tersely and took the vial from Anders; swallowing it in one gulp. Moments later he felt his eyes drooping and he sank into a deep sleep, the last thing he remembered was Merrill chanting something in Elven.

**.o.o.o.**


	10. Chapter 9 Interlude

**~authors note~**  
**BioWare own the characters and settings (except Sylvestrie, she's all mine!) I am just playing with them all for a while.**  
**.o.o.o.**

**SYLVESTRIE – THE FADE.**

It's cold here, not the kind of cold where I would feel close to pneumonia but the kind that reminds me of Winter – the kind of cold that has me thinking of warm fires, hot spiced wine and hearty stews.  
Everything is strange here; slightly off kilter and it all looks a bit…faded…as though someone has leeched almost all of the color out of the place and everything…_shimmers_…slightly.  
There's an eerie silence here. I feel that if I make a sound it would just shatter everything around me. So for now, I stay quiet.

I cannot help but wonder where I am. I should be more worried about how I got here; but somehow that doesn't seem to bother me at the moment.

What do I remember about before? I mean, there _must_ be a before – I wasn't always here, was I?  
It's the strangest thing…I remember nothing. I know there was a before; but I cannot recall it.

Wait…I know I was elsewhere, somewhere warm and safe that had the comforting smell of herbs, dirt and the faint crackle of magic in the air.

Perhaps if I walk around, find out more about my new surroundings I would remember what happened to bring me here.

My feet feel like lead when I move; every step like walking through treacle and I have a strange stabbing pain in my right side. I feel suddenly dizzied and nauseous.  
My head feels clouded and something is burning within me, searing my skin and heating my blood.

This place is entirely too still; it's like every single thing here is waiting for something to happen. The whole place is on edge, in the middle of drawing a breath; halfway through a heartbeat.  
The hairs on my arms and the back of my neck are prickling like I'm being watched by something hidden in the shadows.

I turn around and see someone dart out of my vision.

"Wait!" I call, my voice echoing hollowly around me. The figure stops and slowly turns and I cannot mask my smile when I see who it is.  
I start walking towards him but the more I try to reach him, the harder it becomes to walk.  
The air is getting thicker, heavier and I feel as though I can't breathe; every inhalation is causing pain, a sharp sting in my chest and an ache in my lungs.

Perhaps I am dying and this is where I shall spend my days – in a place where there is no time, no color and the constant torment of the one I love standing out of my reach.

Wait. Did I just say "love"? Hm, I'll think on that later.

I feel as though I am sinking into quicksand.  
My breathing is so slow, labored and painful; my heart struggling to beat enough to keep me alive and my head…Oh my head buzzes angrily like thousands of tiny wasps beating their wings against my skull.

My limbs ache, it feels as though someone is stretching them; contorting them. Perhaps I am being tortured and my body has sent me to this place so I feel barely any pain from it.  
I am so tired, so very tired. I feel as though I have run for miles and not stopped for breath and somewhere I can hear what sounds like howling.

I wish I could see Fenris' face. I would take comfort in seeing his eyes before I succumb to the slow death that is calling me.

I know I scream, a loud noise that tears itself from my throat and escapes my lips; echoing off of the sparse landscape.

The last thing I remember is a face hovering above mine, concerned and frightened and hazy through the pain.

**.o.o.o.**

**FENRIS – THE FADE.**

She is standing at the dock, watching the ships, the crewmen and the gulls arcing overhead; their cries hollow and lonely.  
Her hair is longer, the wind catching it and tossing it behind her; the weak sunlight creating a halo around her.  
It feels like an age since I saw her. I want to go to her; I _need_ to go to her.

But I don't. Instead I stand where I am and watch her watching the ships and the crewmen and the gulls arcing overhead.

She is so still, like a statue; only the very slight movements in her shoulders give away that she is a living, breathing person and not a replica placed here to taunt me.

It is strange, I know this is the docks but they are slightly different. Not enough to be a different place but small, subtle changes. There is almost no color here it's as though someone was disturbed mid-way through de-saturating the landscape and did not return to finish.

There's an eerie shimmer to everything; it all seems a little out of focus and it is then that I realize where I am – the Fade.  
Not a place I had ever wished to travel through again and I wonder if Sylvestrie has travelled the Fade before; I wonder if she knows that it is where she is now.

She turns her head slightly and extends one of her hands behind her; reaching for me. I hesitate a moment and then move towards her. Our fingers lace together and a feeling of peace settles over me.  
We are silent, lulled that way by the sound of the sea lapping against the ships and the dim chatter of the crewmen.

I glance sidelong at her and smile when I see that she still wears the pendant I had given her in the caves. She catches me looking and inclines her head; turning to face me, her eyes luminous in the strange half-light, her lips curved in a ghost of a smile.

She lets go of my hand and instantly I place them at her waist, drawing her to me. A sigh escapes her lips and her hands slide up my arms to my shoulders; her fingers tangle in my hair and I feel something spark inside me.  
With a low growl I pull her against me and press my lips to hers, my hands clasped at her back; relishing in the feel of her in my arms.  
We part what feels like hours later and I gently brush the hair from her face. She smiles warmly – that smile that disarms me every time I see it – and touches my face briefly before turning back to the sea.

I move behind her, my hands on her shoulders and for a while we watch the sea, the ships and the crewmen go about their business; the gulls wheeling in the slate-gray sky.

"I knew you'd come for me," she says and her voice is different, "you always save me, _mei tutella_."

Before I can respond, she tenses and pitches forward with a low moan. I move quickly, crouching in front of her; reaching to cup her face in my hands.  
As I touch her she growls, low and dangerous and I pull my hands back. Her head snaps up and she lets out a howl that shatters the near silence and chills me to my core.  
She convulses, her body shakes and begins to contort in front of my eyes. Every movement caused her to cry out in pain and there is nothing I can do. I crouch, helpless and frightened as her body contorts further.  
Her face…changes and immediately the screaming stops leaving a thick silence in the air punctuated only by my heart pounding and the rough breathing from Sylvestrie.  
Her beautiful face is elongating, her mouth and nose contorting and becoming angular and feline; fur covering her skin, hands and feet becoming paws; bones cracking and breaking and yet there is still something human in her as her eyes meet mine.  
Her clothes split and the skin on her back follows with a sickening tearing sound. Fur sprouts along her back, her arms and legs and any trace of her humanity is gone.  
In her place is a sleek, black cat that regards me with eyes more human than most people I've met.

I reach forward and touch her and she nudges my hand with her nose before curling up next to me and falling asleep.  
I chuckle softly and stand where she had been; watching the sea, the ships and the crewmen and listening to the sounds of the gulls arcing overhead, their cries hollow and lonely.


	11. Chapter 10

~authors note~  
BioWare own the characters and settings (except Sylvestrie, she's all mine!) I am just playing with them all for a while.  
**.o.o.o.**

**EIGHT (PART TWO).**

Fenris awoke, his head pounding like a drum beat and his mind foggy. His arms and legs felt heavy; leaden and for a moment he had no idea where he was.  
A face loomed into his vision and he blinked to clear the haze over his eyes.

"You're awake," a soft voice said, "how do you feel?"

Fenris' vision cleared and he saw Hawke leaning over him, concern writ large on her face. He tried to smile reassuringly but he could tell Hawke was not convinced.  
He cleared his throat and picked up the glass of water on the small table next to him. Taking a large gulp, he looked around.

"Where am I? Where's Sylvestrie?"  
"Anders and I thought it would be better to put you in the guest room at our estate. Sylvestrie is right next to you."

Fenris turned and saw Sylvestrie's sleeping form curled up next to him. Her breathing was even and her skin lacked the clammy sheen of sweat it had had previously. He cautiously lifted her tunic to see the arrow wound was no longer red and angry looking; now it was much smaller and a color only slightly darker than her skin. There were no blue lines winding over her skin and Fenris breathed a sigh of relief.

Hawke smiled and placed a gentle hand on his arm, "you wouldn't let her go, you know. When Merrill finished the ritual you woke briefly and refused to let her out of your arms. We had to almost force you apart to get you both over here."  
Fenris slanted his eyes to look at Sylvestrie, "she's a…a…wild cat? How is that possible?"  
"She could have been bitten."  
"Either that or it's something carried through her family line. It's usually the mother," Anders added as he walked into the room.  
"So she is cursed?" Fenris asked without taking his eyes off of her. Absently he reached over and brushed a few strands of her hair away from her face.  
"It looks that way," Anders nodded as he quickly checked the wound on Sylvestrie's side, "I wonder why she didn't tell us."

The room fell silent and eventually Hawke and Anders left to give Fenris some time to rest.

**.o.o.o.**

Sylvestrie opened her eyes and instantly regretted it. The daylight coming through the windows behind her was far too bright, searing into her and blinding her. Noises from outside and inside were too loud, even the slightest sound was deafening; making her ears ring and her head pound.  
Her mouth felt dry and cottony, her limbs felt leaden and her mind was foggy and felt distinctly mushy.  
She moved and felt a sharp blast of pain, making her hiss.  
Clutching her side gently she slid out of the bed and quietly slipped out of the bedroom door. She could hear voices in the reception room below, heard her name and she hid in the shadows to listen.

"We need to tell her!" A familiar deep, gravelly voice floated up to her and she felt as though it was wrapping around her like warm honey, "she could be a danger if she does not know what she is!"  
"A danger to whom, exactly? Herself or _you_?" That was Anders.  
"Love, please," Hawke was speaking now and Sylvestrie could picture her hand resting on her husbands' arm to calm him, "I don't think Fenris meant anything by it."

There was a moment of silence and Sylvestrie wondered if they had moved into another room when she heard Fenris speak again.

"She had to know what she was. Why didn't she tell us…Tell me?"  
"I'm not so sure she did know, Fenris."  
"How can a person not know that they can turn into an animal, Hawke?"  
A sigh from Hawke, patient tinged with annoyance, "think about what she told us when we all first met."  
"I don't follow," Fenris' voice was laced with frustration.  
"She told us that when one of her first Masters' guests took her to the cellar and abused her that she blacked out and all she remembered were tiny flashes that made no sense to her."  
"It sounds like she inherited this ability without realizing," Anders interjected, "a lot of the time it's carried down the family line. The only other time a person can develop it is by being bitten by another person while in their animal form."

Fenris sighed softly, rubbing a hand over his face, perplexed and worried; turning quickly when he heard a familiar soft voice from behind him.

"I…don't know what happened to me; but I owe you all my life," Sylvestrie smiled at Hawke and Anders before turning to Fenris, "you found me. I didn't know where I was, but you found me even so."  
"Do you not remember anything that happened?" Fenris asked.  
"I can recall sneaking into the chamber of the cave and two men dragged me out somewhere. After that, all I remember is a sharp pain and being somewhere that was strange and unsettling."

Sylvestrie wrapped her arms around her body, as though she could stop the chill creeping over her skin. Fenris moved toward her, his previous frustration burned away by the anxious look Sylvestrie wore, her usually luminous eyes dulled yet shimmering with tears. He touched her shoulder gently, a look passing between them; something said but unspoken and he pulled her to him, brushing his lips over the top of her head.

"_Semper ego vos protegant_," Fenris whispered, "I promise."  
Sylvestrie smiled weakly up at him and turned to Hawke, "I heard you mention an animal..."

Hawke opened her mouth to answer and then closed it again; unsure of how to explain what had happened. Fenris pressed Sylvestrie into a chair and crouched by her with one hand resting gently on her leg. Hawke sat cross-legged on the floor, Anders sat by her and for a moment there was an uneasy silence.

"When we were in the cave something happened to you," Fenris started, "the two men that dragged you away were killed. We didn't know who by because you were nowhere to be seen until something extraordinary happened."  
"I had gone to the anti-chamber where you had been taken," Hawke continued, "and I saw the two men dead then a blast came from nowhere, a flash of bright white light and I was knocked off of my feet."  
"We had two other men closing in on us and out of the anti-chamber flew a beautiful black wild cat. It killed the men outright; this lightning fast creature. With lilac eyes and a deep purple hue to her fur," Fenris raised his eyes to Sylvestrie who had one hand to her mouth and the other tugging at her hair; her eyes wide and frightened.  
"That...animal...It was me?"  
Fenris nodded, "yes. I knew the moment I saw those unmistakable eyes."  
Sylvestrie smiled shyly before a disconcerted frown crinkled her brow, "how is it that I don't remember this, though?"  
Anders cleared his throat, "well, although I don't know much about this sort of thing, I think that the pain you go through during the transformation is so intense it burns away the memory of it ever having happened."  
"I think that this has happened to you before, Sylvestrie," Hawke interjected, "remember when you told us what happened at your first Masters' estate?"  
Sylvestrie's eyes grew wider again, her face paling as her hands went slowly to her mouth, "no...Maker no, _please_...Is there a cure for this?"  
Anders shrugged helplessly, "I'm sorry, but I don't think there is. But now we know; now _you_ know that you have this, we can work out ways to help you control it so that you can change when you want to rather than how it happens now."  
Hawke smiled, kindly, "I think the Dalish might be able to help. I'll talk to Merrill tomorrow and see if she thinks it's worth going to Sundermount to speak to them. For now, you should go and rest – both of you," she arched an eyebrow at Fenris who pretended to not notice.  
"Thank you, Hawke," Sylvestrie said softly, "if you do go to Sundermount, please would you let me come along?"  
"Of course," Hawke nodded, "we will need to get you some proper equipment – a pack, bedrolls, thinks like that – so perhaps I can take you to Hubert in Hightown tomorrow?"  
"I would like that, thank you. Both of you," Sylvestrie hugged Hawke briefly and took Fenris' arm gently. Fenris nodded his thanks to Hawke and Anders and guided Sylvestrie out of the estate.

Hightown was bathed in hues of twilight, darkness lazily chasing away the last of the daytime. Chantry sisters were lighting lanterns in the courtyard and passing on murmured blessings to the folk hurrying from the closing stalls to their homes.

Sylvestrie glanced up at the sky, stars beginning to show in the velvety midnight blue like tiny sparkling jewels.

Fenris was happy to find that he didn't have to battle with the door to his home, holding it open for Sylvestrie to step through and closing it behind them.  
Sylvestrie turned to Fenris, her lower lip caught between her teeth and she glanced at Fenris with cautious eyes.

"Fenris...Would you stay with me tonight? Please?"

Wordlessly, he took her hand and led her to the room; stretching out on the bed and holding her close to him. She lifted her head and kissed his cheek softly and rested her head on his chest; finding comfort in his strong heartbeat.  
He tangled his fingers in her hair, his other hand stroking her back rhythmically until her breathing slowed to the familiar pattern that meant she was asleep.

Fenris waited for sleep to claim him and when it didn't he slid out of the bed silently and stood leaning against the window; watching people walk the streets of Hightown, looking at the stars that had stolen Sylvestrie's attention and then finally at the moon hanging full and silvery in the night sky.  
Glancing back to the bed, he smiled – his fele; his brilliant beautiful little cat, was safe and although he knew it would take time to adjust to her new characteristic, he held one thing in certainty in his mind.

He loved her.

**.o.o.o.**  
Translations:  
_Semper ego vos protegant_ – I will always protect you


	12. Chapter 11

~authors note~  
BioWare own the characters and settings (except Sylvestrie, she's all mine!) I am just playing with them all for a while.

**.o.o.o.**

**NINE.**  
Winter arrived without preamble in Kirkwall, icy winds blasting away the remnants of the balmy Autumn days. The sky was a smoky gray; the clouds heavy as though laden with snow that threatened imminent release.  
The days became shorter and shorter, daylight relinquishing its reign easily to the deep darkness that settled over Kirkwall; leaving the lit lanterns to cast a golden glow between the ever stretching shadows.  
Saturnalia was fast approaching, the Lowtown bazaar and Hightown market square bustling with new stalls selling trinkets, exotic fruits and nuts as well as jewels in every color imaginable; toys for children and beautiful hand-stitched clothing.  
Everyone was gathered around a small table in the Hanged Man, drinking warm spiced cider and discussing plans for Saturnalia.

"I would love for all of you to have dinner with us," Hawke was saying.  
"Yes, my wife has managed to find enough food to feed several armies of people," Anders laughed, "if you don't help us eat it we'll be dealing with one very fat…"  
"And contented," Hawke giggled.  
"Yes – and contented…Mabari hound. And to be fair the bloody beast is big enough."  
"A fact that is clearly not helped by a certain Guard-Captain feeding him "confiscated" mutton legs on the sly," Fenris remarked dryly.  
"In my defense," Aveline muttered, "none of you were meant to know about that."

The group laughed at the mock glower Aveline was sporting and Sylvestrie elbowed Fenris in an affectionate rebuke. He smiled, catching her elbow and winding his arm around hers gently.  
This gesture did not go unnoticed – Varric's eagle eyes saw everything, committing it to memory for future use.

"Well I, for one, have no plans," Isabela said, "I will be more than happy to invade your home and sample what's on offer."

The group rolled their eyes at the obvious innuendo and Aveline muttered something that sounded an awful lot like _"whore"_ to Sylvestrie.

"Ladies…" Hawke shot a warning glance to Isabela and Aveline before continuing, "Sylvestrie, Fenris – you'll come, of course?"  
Fenris glanced at Sylvestrie who smiled and nodded shyly, "we wouldn't miss it, Hawke."  
"Good," Hawke smiled and turned to Varric and Merrill who both nodded.  
"Can I help at all," Merrill asked, "I mean I can't cook to save my life but…"  
"That's for sure," Varric snorted as she was mid-sentence, "remember the breakfast you made me?"  
Merrill flushed red across her cheeks, "It wasn't that bad, Varric."  
"Daisy, I've never seen someone burn eggs before. In fact I've never seen someone burn them but still make them look like rubber," he laughed, then reached over and patted her hand with a gentle smile, "but I always did appreciate the thought."  
"Thank you, Varric," Merrill ducked her shyly and Varric nodded, sitting back in his seat.

A sudden cheer from some of the taverns patrons made the group look around. A trio of people carrying a tabor, a lute and a small collection of tin whistles were setting up to play.  
A hush fell across the room and the first notes struck loudly and clearly; instantly drowned out by the cheers of those who recognized the song.  
Merrill clapped along with the music, delight in her eyes and Varric stood, holding his hands out to her before whirling her across the room to dance.  
Eventually others joined them, the dance a popular one for the tavern as most seemed to know it well. Sylvestrie watched with a wistful look in her eyes and Fenris stood and tapped her shoulder before bowing at the waist.

"Would you join me in a dance, my Lady?" He asked; his trademark half-smile quirking his lips and his olive eyes glowing with amber tints from the candle light.  
"I would love to, Ser," Sylvestrie took his hand and giggled as he twirled her away from the table.

The song was lively with an almost tribal beat and again, Sylvestrie noticed that Fenris seemed to just instinctively know the moves.  
The dance felt almost too slow for the beat, but at the same time Sylvestrie knew that the slowness leant itself to an intensity between the people dancing.  
The drums rolled like a shockwave through the tavern, the other instruments rising, falling and intertwining with the beat as the dancers moved in a lazy sensuality around each other.  
Just as Sylvestrie found herself used to the beat and the movement of the dance, it changed and Fenris picked Sylvestrie up again and spun her to the outside of the circle of dancers; curling his hands over her hips and bringing her close to him. As Sylvestrie reached up to place her hands on his shoulder; he dipped her low to the floor and brought her back up; lifting her and holding her arched over his left arm; his right hand resting at her waist as the music stopped.  
The tavern patrons applauded and Fenris righted Sylvestrie, gently tucking an errant strand of her hair behind her ear.  
The music started again, a slower and softer piece. Fenris inclined his head and Sylvestrie stepped closer to him as they started a slow dance amidst the others.

"You dance very well," Sylvestrie murmured in his ear; her breath tickling across his skin.  
"_Gratios Fele_," his eyes twinkled slightly and Sylvestrie found herself almost hypnotized, as though she were falling into them.

Fenris felt, for once, utterly at peace with the world. He had a beautiful woman in his arms, Saturnalia was fast approaching and for once he felt like he could celebrate. He rested his cheek against Sylvestrie's head and tightened his arms around her just a little and allowed himself to feel safe and light-hearted.

**.o.o.o.**

Elsewhere, in a large and foreboding estate that sprawled lazily over the highest point of the town; a man was watching the people he considered to be far below him scurrying about the cobbled streets. He sighed, bored and irritated in equal measures and turned to the tall, thin man standing behind him.

"Elren, I grow tired of this cat and mouse game now. Tell me you have found the girl."  
"She is hiding in Kirkwall, my Lord. She has found protection, however in the form of the Lady Hawke and her friends. It will not be easy to separate the girl from these people – one of them in particular."  
"The Lady Hawke, a formidable and legendary woman indeed," he turned back to the window and stayed silent for a moment, "perhaps it is time I make her acquaintance."  
"Would you have me prepare your coach for travel, my Lord?"  
"Do so, Elren. I shall travel immediately."

Elren bowed low and left the room.

"Do you have to leave so soon?" a nasal female voice cut through the silence and the man ground his teeth.

He crossed the room and stood towering over the sickly thin, insipid looking woman that had interrupted his thoughts.  
He grabbed her chin in his hands and brought his face as close to hers as he could stand. Her breath was hot over his skin and he had to hold himself steady so he did not betray the effect the stench had on him.  
She paled and tried to twist away from him. The more she tried, the harder he held her chin until she stopped, her body sagging.  
The man pushed her away from him, disgust twisting his features. She scrambled back until her back hit the wall and he turned from her.  
The man walked to the large fireplace that dominated one of the walls and picked up the poker to stir the embers into flames. Leaving the tip of the poker nestled among the burning ashes he turned back to the woman.

"I think you forget yourself. You do not speak unless I ask it of you and frankly not only is your breath sour and foul as something rotten but your voice grates against my very core."  
"I…Forgive me, Master. You are right, I forgot my place," the woman immediately fell to her knees and bowed, making sure to keep her head down.

The sharp hiss of the flame-heated poker against her skin and the smell of burnt flesh made her cry out and the man chuckled wryly.  
He brought the poker down against her back and began to brand the woman's skin – a circle first and then the triangle, its edges overlapping the circle.  
She stayed as silent as she could, the occasional whimper escaping her lips which the man enjoyed.  
He repeated the process a few more times and then stopped once the poker had cooled. He dropped it on the floor and crouched in front of the cowering woman.

"Look at me." He commanded and she raised her eyes, focusing somewhere on his face but not looking in his eyes; never ever his eyes.  
He smiled, a gesture that would normally charm and disarm a woman; leaving her hand fluttering at her breast, a flush on her cheeks and a sigh on her lips.  
However to the woman on the floor it left her feeling cold, the smile was like an ice pick forcing its way into her body and chilling her to the bone.

"You know what it means to be branded by someone such as myself." It was not a question, more a statement and although he required no answer the woman nodded; her head jerking up and down as though on a puppeteer's string.

"Good." He looked away, towards the window again and then looked back at the woman who was curling in on herself, sniveling and crying quietly, "then you will also know that I would never lower myself to have someone as pathetic as you as a slave."

He placed the palms of his hands on either side of her head and looked at her, his eyes empty and hollow.  
She looked up at him, her whole body shaking and he felt sick looking at her waxy flesh wobbling in the candlelight like a malnourished slug.  
He shuddered, her very existence making bile rise in his throat and he twisted his hands quickly; the sound of bones snapping ringing clear through the room.  
The woman fell limp to the floor and he brushed his hands off on his trouser leg and stood, kicking her body to one side.

The door opened and Elren entered. He looked at the body on the floor and made a mental note to have some of the servant girls dispose of it somewhere.

"My Lord, your coach is ready for your departure."  
"Excellent. I shall leave shortly."

Elren bowed and left the room to find people to remove the woman's body.  
The man walked quickly to a large portrait of himself (painted by the best artist in Thedas, of course) above the fireplace and moved it to one side, exposing a hole in the wall. The cavity held a small vial of deep red liquid and with a smile that could only be described as sinister; the man removed the vial and tucked it into a pocket of the heavy, opulent robe he wore over his trousers.

With a satisfied nod, he left the room and made his way to the coach his aide had prepared.

**.o.o.o.**

Fenris was pleasantly surprised when the front door to his mansion opened first time without any threat of violence or cursing.  
As he walked into the large main room of the mansion, he noticed how quiet it was. Usually he would hear Sylvestrie singing softly as she went about her day but today all that greeted him was silence and the occasional noise from outside filtering through it.  
Concerned, Fenris walked into the kitchen and placed his packages on the table. It was, as always, clean and tidy but showed no signs of Sylvestrie having been there.  
Moving through the mansion, Fenris found no sign of Sylvestrie at all. In the bedroom, the dual daggers he had given her were lying side by side on a small table; the metal gleaming in the light from the nearly burned out candles.  
Worry prickled at the back of his neck; a cold feeling creeping over his skin. He sat on the edge of the bed and tried to think where she could be.  
The knowledge that she would not have left anywhere with Hawke without her daggers did nothing to abate the worry needling at him. He called her name as loud as he could and held his breath in the silence that seemed louder than any sound he made.

Fenris got up and stood by the window, looking out over Hightown and the back of the garden that was part of Hawkes estate.  
Darkness was descending fast, shadows chasing away the last vestiges of the day; a chill settling through the air.

Wrapped up in his worried thoughts; Fenris failed to notice the figure sidling out of the shadows towards him.  
A slender hand landed on his arm and he jumped with a shouted curse in Arcanum, spinning to face the person who had crept up on him.  
The figure darted out of his reach with a soft chuckle that he instantly recognized.

"Sylvestrie? Where did you come from?"

She walked into the shaft of light that the moon outside had cast through the window and smiled up at Fenris.  
He glared at her, annoyed that she had managed to creep up on him and simultaneously relieved that nothing had happened to her.  
"I am sorry, _tutella_. I didn't mean to worry you. I was somewhere amazing and I lost track of time."  
"Somewhere amazing?" Fenris arched an eyebrow.  
"Here, let me show you," Sylvestrie walked to some crates that were stacked on top of each other, creating a makeshift ladder leading up to a hole in the ceiling.  
"Why is there a hole in my ceiling, _Fele_?"  
"It's not a hole; it's a small opening created by a loose tile that I accidentally knocked when I was throwing my daggers."

Fenris suppressed a smile and watched Sylvestrie climb the crates and disappear through the hole. After a moment, he followed suit and found himself on the roof of his mansion, looking down at Hightown at night, illuminated by lamp-lights and the cozy glow from peoples' homes.  
Sylvestrie took his arm and pulled him to the corner of the roof where soft music could be heard among the chatter of Hightown nobles gathered in a grand garden studded with tiny glass jars holding candles. In the dark, the glass was hardly visible and the candle flames looked like tiny fireflies suspended in the air.

Sylvestrie lay down on the roof on her stomach, watching the people below. After a moment, Fenris appeared beside her.

"I like it up here," Sylvestrie murmured, "it's almost like another world, especially at night."  
"This is not the first time you've been up here?" Fenris asked, softly.  
"No, I come up here when I can't sleep. I watch the stars or the people on the streets, sometimes I can hear music from a noble's party and sometimes I hear it from the Hanged Man if it's loud enough."

Fenris watched Sylvestrie from the corner of his eye for a moment. Her eyes were half-closed, a small smile formed on her lips, as though she was party to a private joke that nobody else could hear. A slight breeze stirred wisps of her hair, the moonlight highlighting the deep purple hue.  
He reached out and gently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, startling her out of her reverie. She tilted her head towards him, her eyes luminous and shifted closer to him, brushing his hair away from his forehead; fingertips gently touching his skin and ghosting over the lyrium markings. He shivered, his eyes closing for a moment relishing the touch. As her fingertips moved over the markings on his neck he drew a breath, taking her hand and twining his fingers around hers.  
She looked at him, eyes searching – _did I hurt you?_  
A brief smile crossed his lips, his eyes warm – _shh, don't worry._  
His hands trailed lazily up her arms, into her hair; which had grown somewhat and felt like heavy silk as his fingers tangled into it.

Sylvestrie closed her eyes, feeling the warmth of Fenris' touch, gooseflesh rising on her skin at the proximity of their bodies.  
Their lips met once, briefly in a chaste kiss; Sylvestrie brushing her lips over Fenris', placing a kiss at the corner of his mouth; a sigh escaping and whispering over his skin.  
Fenris pulled back, cupping Sylvestrie's face in his hands before tracing the line of her lips with his thumb. She shivered, a smile tugging at her mouth as she kissed his thumb. His eyes widened and he leaned forward, their lips meeting a second time with a fevered passion.  
Sylvestrie smiled coyly and slid her fingers under her tunic; slipping it over her body and spread it underneath her.

Fenris felt his mouth dry instantly at the sight of her body as pale as porcelain. She looked fragile and delicate as her lilac eyes shone like the stars above them.  
He tugged his own tunic off, hearing her breath catch and felt her fingertips trace the lyrium lines that snaked vine-like over his skin. Her touched set him aflame and he turned heavy-lidded eyes towards her, leaning down to kiss her lips as he divested them both of the remainder of their clothes.

She pulled Fenris down with her and they lay on the roof; a tangle of limbs, hands touching skin, seeking out new paths of pleasure and in breathless wonder they saw each other fully in the moonlight; bathed in an ethereal silvery light.

Sylvestrie saw Fenris above her, almost suspended, his eyes suddenly worried as he stroked her face tenderly – _are you sure?_  
She smiled shyly, nodded and wrapped herself around his body; pulling him into her. Slowly, gently, and with an almost agonizing tenderness; Fenris moved and Sylvestrie felt everything dim around her as lyrium and avenite combined, drifting into a pale purple glow above their twined bodies.

**.o.o.o.**


	13. Chapter 12

**~authors note~**  
**BioWare own the characters and settings (except Sylvestrie, she's all mine!) I am just playing with them all for a while.**  
**.o.o.o.**

**TEN.**  
Winter sunlight shone weakly through the bedroom window of Fenris' mansion.  
Fenris grumbled softly, trying to block out the watery rays. He had slept soundly, for once and was in no hurry to fully awaken until he really had to.  
He stretched out, relishing in the slight ache of his muscles and the mild tingle of his lyrium markings. He turned over, expecting to find a head of sleep-mussed black hair or bright lilac eyes peering at him and instead found nothing but cool sheets and an empty space.  
Frowning, he tossed the blanket aside and shivered as the cold air hit his skin. Dressing, Fenris stalked out of the bedroom and downstairs.  
As he opened the door into one of the mansions many corridors, he was greeted by an aroma that sparked a memory deep in the recesses of his mind. Taking a deep breath, he pushed open the door to the kitchen and saw Sylvestrie, covered in flour with a smudge of spices on her cheek; kneading a doughy mixture.  
Fenris watched for a moment and then stood behind Sylvestrie, placing his hands lightly at her hips while she worked.  
She smiled and leaned against him for a moment before continuing her task.

"Not that I am complaining, but what sparked the cooking frenzy?"  
"Well, I wanted to do something nice for Hawke because she's cooking us this big Saturnalia feast. I thought that I could bring something to help."

Fenris nodded, a brief smile crossing his lips. As he turned to sit at the kitchen table, he caught sight of the source of the delicious aroma – a plate full of pastries. Sneaking behind Sylvestrie, he snagged one; bit into it and promptly cursed, dropping the pastry onto the kitchen table.

"That, my dear, is what happens when you try and sneak food before it's properly cooled;" Sylvestrie arched an eyebrow at Fenris, who tried in vain to plea his innocence.

Sylvestrie sat next to him at the table and tore a small piece of the pastry off, holding it to Fenris' mouth. Her eyes twinkled with mirth and he smiled, taking the morsel and closing his eyes as the sweet pastry filled his mouth with almond, butter and spices.

**-a young boy stands in a beautiful garden, hidden behind a small cluster of elegantly shaped shrubs; half of an almond pastry in his mouth, the other half in his hand and an expression somewhere between guilt and pleasure crossing his face.**  
**Crumbs stick to his lips as he chews and swallows quickly; stuffing the other half of the pastry into his mouth, eyes flitting around nervously.**  
**Brushing the crumbs from his clothes, the boy walks towards the grand estate that looms over the garden, casting a shadow like a shroud over the grass.**  
**Something runs through his peripheral vision and he turns quickly, spinning gracefully on his heels. **  
**His eyes widen at the sight before him.**  
**Kneeling under a tree, hands clasped as if in silent prayer is a girl with night-black hair falling over her shoulder and obscuring her face.**  
**The boy moves quietly, slowly towards this strange girl and as he draws closer he feels a heavy air of sadness and despair emanating from her.**  
**He kneels in front of her, his hand lightly brushing the girls arm. She jumps, startled out of her reverie and peers up at him through the locks of hair tumbling over her face.**  
**The boy's eyes widen **_(maker…she's beautiful!)_** at her appearance. Her eyes were similar to his own Elven almond-shaped eyes but the color…Brilliant silver, tinged with another color he couldn't even think to name and now he sees her hair in the sunlight he notices the deep black has a dark purple hue to it **_(who is this girl?)_** and then the most surprising thing of all as she brushed her hair away from her face; sweeping it over her shoulders, her ears – human but not quite; a delicate shell tapering to a slightly rounded but definite point at the tip **_(she…she is of Elven blood…?)_**. And yet, there was something more; something that feels as though it was under her skin and for a moment she looked almost…cat-like.**  
**She shivers, despite the warmth of the sun and without thinking the boy stands, holding his hands out to her; pulling her to her feet gently. He leads her to the kitchen of the mansion and settles her onto a large wooden stool. **  
**Heating milk in a small pan over the fire, he hands the girl a pastry to eat while she sips the milk. Hesitantly, she takes it and a sweet smile crosses her lips as she eats. **  
**The boy watches her carefully, unsure but curious **_(where did she come from?)_** and after a while he sits on the other stool to continue his observation.**  
**She eats the pastry, offering the last bite to the boy who shakes his head, gesturing for her to finish. Nodding her thanks she does so and immediately hops down from the stool to start cleaning the cracked cup the milk had been in. He places a hand on her arm and she looks sidelong at him, silvery eyes meeting deep mossy green as she turns to face him; her hand raising and touching his face gently; fingertips brushing through the locks of dark hair that falls over his eyes.**  
**For a moment, it feels as though the world had stilled and fallen silent. There is just the boy and this strangely beautiful girl standing together but apart; curious yet cautious and the sunlight streaming through the window shines around her like a halo and to the boy for a moment she looks for all the world like an angel sent to him **_(quis tu pulchra angelus?)_** and she smiles as he realizes he had spoken out loud but not only that she had understood and smiled at him – a real smile full of warmth and kindness and promise.**  
**He touches his fingers gently under her chin, tilting her face up to his and he knows he shouldn't but he wants this girl, this angelic being that had appeared to him from nowhere; he wants to keep her, to lock her away so that she would never be spoiled by the evils of the world. He would protect her, he would keep her safe and he would love her with all he had **_(oh how I would love her if I could just keep her, please please just let me have something to call mine)_**. **  
**His lips brush hers and he pulls her as close to him as he dares; revelling in the feel of her arms tightening around his neck and then the door flies open with a crash and two guards storm in; pulling them apart, separating them, taking her from him **_(you can't, she's mine...please don't...I need her, please...)_** and dragging her kicking and screaming and crying and reaching for him; hands out, fingers reaching and stretching; eyes falling to the floor when she realizes he could not overpower these men and then she's gone...gone and lost; this beautiful, strange girl who had appeared like an angel, showing him in one brief, heartbreaking moment that he was worthy of all the things he craved.**  
**He slumps against the table, something glinting on the floor in the sunlight and he picks it up – a pendant- a silver disc engraved with a paw print. He fastens it around his neck and silently promises to find her one day to return it-**

Fenris opened his eyes slowly, blinking in the stark winter sunlight filtering through the windows. Sylvestrie was pale, her eyes wide, fingers toying with the silver pendant that she had worn constantly since Fenris had given it to her in the slaver cavern.  
He looked at the pendant, color draining from his face; eyes widening in comprehension that it had been them in that vision; something from a past he had long since forgotten, something erased from his mind with else pulse of lyrium injected into his skin.

"That…Fenris, was that _us_?" Sylvestrie asked, her voice barely a whisper.

Unable to speak, Fenris just stared, dumbstruck. His mind was whirling, thoughts tumbling over each other clamoring to be heard, to be remembered, to be voiced; to be given life and meaning and purpose again.  
Without warning Fenris let out a sound like a howl and a scream, his voice cracking and breaking and he upturned the heavy old wooden table with such force a leg snapped and splintered on the floor.  
He picked up the leg and swung it against the walls as hard as he could; watching the wood fragment and break as he felt his mind was doing; torment, anger and suffering coursing through his veins lighting the lyrium until he felt he would burn to a cinder.  
He felt as though he were in the eye of a hurricane being blown about, tossed and bent and bowed; nothing more than a toy, a doll to be toyed with and abandoned at whim.  
He could hear a howling sound, distorted but almost musical and the air around him grew cold, lights sparking in his vision; sparking and exploding and he wondered if this was what dying felt like – pain and fear and icy cold fingers gripping him while screams and howls sang his funeral song and then he felt the breath torn from his lungs as though he were nothing more than a candle to be snuffed out.

**.o.o.o.**  
Translations  
_quis tu pulchra angelus?_ – who are you, beautiful angel?


	14. Chapter 13

~authors note~  
BioWare own the characters and settings (except Sylvestrie, she's all mine!) I am just playing with them all for a while.  
**.o.o.o.**

**ELEVEN.**  
A large, luxurious looking coach pulled by two proud black horses had stopped just outside of Hightown; the occupants studying their new surroundings with something approaching disgust and curiosity as though the people hurrying through the cold, dark streets were a new species to be caught, dissected and examined.

"So, this is Kirkwall", the man said, "how…charming."  
"Indeed my Lord. It lacks the affluence and good taste of Tevinter, does it not?"  
"Quite so, Elren, quite so," a heavy, weary sigh followed his words, "I imagine there is somewhere we start looking for the slave girl?"  
Elren nodded, bony fingers steepling together, "I have it on good authority that the _insalubrious_ townsfolk gather at a rather pestilent little place called the Hanged Man. It's in an area known as Lowtown."

The man grunted in disgust, shook his head and then made an impatient gesture; commanding the coachman to move on to Lowtown.  
The journey went by all too slowly for the man and his aide and after what felt like an interminable amount of time the coachman stopped and informed them that they had reached their destination.  
Elren got out first and held out a hand. The man took it and climbed out of the coach in a strangely graceful manner. He turned slowly and took in his surroundings; wrinkling his nose at the smell assaulting his senses and the noise of the Lowtown mistresses plying their trades to the men that walked by.  
They located the Hanged Man and walked inside only to be assaulted once more; this time by the smell of sour ale, vomit and desperation.

"My Lord, may I make a suggestion?"  
"Speak, Elren."  
"We should spend a day familiarizing ourselves with our…surroundings. Talk to people, ask subtle questions about whether they have noticed a lilac-eyed girl among them."  
"Hm, you may well be right. I certainly hope that there are suitable rooms available while we are here."

Elren clicked his fingers and a small, plump girl appeared at his side instantly. He murmured into her ear and she vanished, returning moments later to beckon both men to a well furnished suite at the back of the tavern.  
She left, bowing slightly to them both and closing the heavy wooden doors behind her.  
The men took in their temporary abode. They stood in a large room with a fireplace, wooden table and chairs, plush burgundy rugs; candle lamps and two doors leading into bedrooms.

"I will require hot water for the morning, as well as breakfast, Elren."  
"I shall speak to the proprietor immediately, my Lord," Elren headed for the door, bidding his Lord goodnight before leaving to make the necessary arrangements required.

**.o.o.o.**

Fenris awoke; his body stiff and cold; his legs tangled in a woolen blanket. Blearily he looked around to realize he had fallen asleep on the cold stone floor of the kitchen. As he pulled himself up to lean against the wall, he took in the chaos that surrounded him – pieces of wood strewn over the floor, broken crockery spilling from the counters and shattered glass glinting like gems in the slowly fading sunlight.  
Slowly, Fenris stood and looked around. Instantly worry overtook him, jangling along his nerves when he realized that he was alone.

"Sylvestrie…what have I done…?" he whispered to the empty room.

He left the kitchen, immediately heading for the bedroom; already knowing that she wouldn't be in the bed or sitting by the fire reading in the warm orange glow.  
He pulled himself up through the hole in the ceiling (_"it's not a hole, Fenris, it's a small opening!"_) and saw Sylvestrie sitting with her legs dangling over the edge of the roof; a lute next to her.  
He dropped to sit behind her, his hands touching her shoulders gently.

"You're awake," she murmured, "I was starting to worry."  
"I am sorry, _fele_," Fenris wrapped his arms around her, pulling her to him, "_mihi ignoscas, mea amore_."

Sylvestrie settled back against him, resting her head on his shoulder and placing her hands over his.  
"There is nothing to forgive, _tutella_," she said, gently, "you were upset and obviously disturbed by what had happened."  
"Hmph. That is no excuse. I should have better control of myself."

Sylvestrie twisted slightly and brushed a lock of Fenris' hair out of his eyes before gently cupping his face in her hands and then smudging a light kiss at the corner of his mouth.

Despite himself, Fenris felt his lips tug upwards in a small smile and he shook his head, "how is it that you are able to allay my fears and angered emotions with a simple gesture?"  
Sylvestrie shrugged, ducking her head and settling back against Fenris, "are you feeling alright, now, though?"  
"I feel a little safer at this present moment," he replied quietly, "although I am disconcerted at what happened…the memory and my…reaction."  
"I just wish I knew what it meant. It's the second time that's happened."  
"I wonder if Hawke would know," Fenris said, "if she doesn't then perhaps the…witch…will."  
"Then we will speak to Hawke as soon as we can," Sylvestrie agreed, "I need to take some of the food I made to her anyway."

Fenris brushed a kiss over the top of her head and watched the sun slowly descend into the skyline. He looked at the lute that lay carefully placed on the cool tiles of the rooftop and then looked at Sylvestrie with a smile.

"Play something for me." He murmured and she looked up at him nervously.  
"I haven't played in so long…"

Hesitantly she picked up the lute and strummed a few notes. Moving away from Fenris, she sat cross-legged and quietly began to play. As her confidence grew, she became lost in the music and softly began to sing.  
The words were strange, almost nonsense and disjointed but Sylvestrie's soft whispery voice made them speak to him; they flowed over him with the lutes chords and he felt the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck stand on end as she sang.  
The thin wintery sun was setting, casting shadows and warm glows across the rooftops of Hightown.  
The song seemed to swell, ebb and flow like water softly lapping at the sands on the Wounded Coast and as Fenris closed his eyes he felt as though he were free-falling through the sunset; surrounded by brilliance, fiery oranges and golden yellows and soothed by the voice wrapping around him like silk.  
Sylvestrie's song slowed and faded and Fenris opened his eyes; the glow from the sunset making them glimmer with golden pinpoints and Sylvestrie sat still, her head bowed slightly almost in reverence.

"That…that was beautiful, Sylvestrie; you have wonderful voice."  
"Thank you," she half-whispered, "I haven't sung that in some time."

Fenris moved closer, tilting her chin up so her eyes met his and he saw an incredible sadness written starkly on her face.  
He leant his forehead against hers, his fingertips stroking her cheek; the other hand clasping hers gently.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He asked quietly.

For a moment she was silent and then she took a deep breath and let it out; shaky words following it.  
"Before I was sold to Gideon, I used to play the lute whenever my first master ordered me to. The song…it was a favorite of one of his other slaves and once he found out he told me that if I ever sang it and he heard it he would kill the boy in front of me."  
"Hm, sounds like something Danarius would have done," Fenris commented.  
"He hated that one of his little pets had found some kind of pleasure in something that wasn't controlled by him. I remember that boy; whenever the master was out I would sneak to where the boy slept and sing to him. Usually it was after he had been punished or forced to participate in rituals. He said my voice calmed him.  
"I remember…oh that poor boy…I remember that he was stripped of his life, his memories. Everything he had known was ripped away from him; just to please the master, just so that he could be stronger and serve the master better.  
"I still sang to him though. Even though he forgot me, I still sang to him. I wanted him to know that even though he forgot everything that someone kept his memories locked away in their heart. I remembered. I _always_ remembered."

Fenris' eyes widened and he pulled back slightly, looking at Sylvestrie, "this boy;" he began and then faltered momentarily, "do…do you remember his name?"  
"Yes," Sylvestrie looked up and smiled sadly, "his name was Leto."

**.o.o.o.**

**Translations**  
_mihi ignoscas, mea amore_ – forgive me, my love

The song that Sylvestrie is singing is "Broken Horse" by Freelance Whales. If you haven't heard it, please go and listen to it – it's beautiful.


End file.
